EXTRACTS 



FROM 

THE LETTERS 

OF / 

/ 

JONATHAN HUTCHINSON, 



WITH SOME 



BRIEF NOTICES OF HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER, 



I 




HARVEY AND DARTON, GR ACECHURCH-STR EET. 

MDCCCXLI. 

i 9h • 



6X17^ 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



It seems due to the reader of this volume, and to the memory of Jona- 
than Hutchinson, to prefix a little biographical information con- 
cerning him : this must necessarily be very brief, from the few incidents 
which his life presented. It is the less needful that much should be at- 
tempted as descriptive of character, because our beloved and honoured 
friend possessed in a remarkable manner the talent of conveying to his 
correspondents his mental feelings, his joys and conflicts. His letters 
are written in the confidence of friendship : but I believe that had he 
been consulted he would have freely left his friends at liberty to give a 
more extended circulation after his decease, to this disclosure of his 
opinions and his religious experience, if they thought that by so doing 
the Christian traveller would be warned, encouraged, or helped in his 
pilgrimage towards an eternal .inheritance. In the hope that to more 
than a few they will prove in this ,*\.ay both acceptable and instructive, 
they are now offered to the candid perusal of the public. 



The following particulars of the early part of the life of 
Jonathan Hutchinson are extracted from a short ma- 
nuscript of his own writing, found after his decease. 

" I was born at Gedney, in the county of Lincoln, on 
the seventh of the second month, 1760; where, as I 
have been informed, my ancestors had resided for many 
generations, in the outward occupation of farmers, the 
on] business that I ever followed. It also appears that a 
f the family from which I was descended, joined the 
■us society of Friends soon after its rise. 
But though thus inheriting the privileges of rural retire- 
and the simplicity of pastoral life, — educated too in 
inciples of an excellent Christian profession, yet that 
sting and dangerous portion of my life, between 
g school and manhood, was strongly characterized 
by the sins and follies to which youth and inexperience 
are so peculiarly liable ; — whilst its succeeding stages, 
even the most happy and favoured of them, have, in mv 
own view at least, been remarkable for their weakness, 
unworthiness, and vicissitude ; so much so, that through- 
out the whole of my probationary course there have been 
certain critical and eventful periods, wherein my sufferings 
of body and mind have been such, as to leave me but just 
in possession of life and sense. Yet on this solemn retro- 
spect, I find nothing to complain of but fallen self, acted 
upon by a delusive world, and an unwearied spiritual ad- 
versary. 

" I therefore would not ' charge God foolishly,' seeing that 

a 2 



i 



iv 

in all, and through all, his kindness and forbearance 
towards me have been extended in a manner equally un- 
merited and incomprehensible to my own understanding ; 
and, like many other parts of his government, both in na- 
ture and grace, they appear to admit of no other pos- 
sible solution than is to be found in this scriptural declara- 
tion, ' The ways of the Lord are higher than our ways, and 
his thoughts than our thoughts/ 

" I do not remember having been favoured in my early 
years with the tendering visitations of Divine love, either 
so often or so powerfully as we find recorded of divers 
religious persons; but I seem rather to have been left to 
explore in much solitude the depth and the misery of 
fallen nature in its greatest bitterness ; so that before I had 
attained the twentieth year of my age, the enemy of all 
good possessed a fearful ascendancy over me. But whilst 
in many instances he led me captive at his will, yet as in 
the case of poor Job, his power was limited ; and he was 
not permitted, as was evidently his design, to complete the 
destruction both of my body and soul, which by the inter- 
posing arm of Israel's God, were mercifully preserved, and 
marvellously delivered from the last effort of his cruel and 
malignant grasp. 

" For after many sore and ineffectual conflicts, in which 
hope at length had taken its departure, I was favoured 
with so convincing an evidence that God desireth not the 
death of a sinner, as that my heart was strongly inclined 
towards a state of subjection and obedience to Him. But 
though thus made willing, the performances of my appre- 
hended duty have ever been so poor and humiliating, as to 
give me occasion with deep feeling to respond to this lan- 



V 



guage of David: 6 Not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us, but 
unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy 
truth's sake.' Amen and amen ! saith a soul which thou 
hast indeed brought out of a horrible pit, and taught to 
sing thy praise. 

" The first vocal prayer I remember having uttered, was 
extorted from me by distress, when, in a kneeling attitude, 
I was preparing to cut some hay for cattle. The purport 
of it may serve to show the darkness and doubt of the 
heart from which it burst, like water from the rock when 
smitten by the rod of Moses ; it was brief, being compre- 
hended in these few emphatic words, ' If there be a God in 
heaven, I pray Thee help me.'" 

In a review r of a remarkable visitation which he 
had experienced, he thus wrote some years after its oc- 
currence : — " The visitation of Divine love and mercy, 
which thou wast favoured with in thy lonely journey, 
appears to have been a very precious one indeed, and 
has reminded me much of that which, as perhaps I have 
before told thee, about fourteen years ago, as I was riding 
alone on the highway, completed, as I am willing to hope, 
a conversion which had previously been most unstable and 
wavering ; or rather shall I say which rescued me from the 
jaw of the lion and paw of the bear, and placed my poor 
soul in a capacity to endeavour to know and to do the 
will of God. Since that eventful crisis in my spiritual 
history, I think I have never absolutely turned my back on 
the way which appeared to be cast up for me, nor wilfully 
departed from my God ; though I have had some conflicts, 
and have yet at times so feelingly to deplore the remaining 
weaknesses of my nature, that even this very morning I 



VI 

could only find access to the footstool of mercy by loath- 
ing and abhorring all that could properly be called myself, 
as in dust and ashes. But what a favour it is when, even 
through the deepest humiliations, peace is restored to the 
sorrowful or wounded spirit ! " 

In the early period of his life, when our beloved friend 
had scarcely attained manhood, he underwent a very close 
trial in the death of an amiable young woman, whom he 
tenderly loved. This attachment was mutual ; they were 
on the point of marriage, but she became consumptive, and 
rapidly sunk away. She lived in a distant part of the 
country, and he scarcely reached her residence before her 
earthly race was run. Thus were his fond and early hopes 
blighted. This sorrow came upon him when, to use his 
own words, he was a as a bullock unaccustomed to the 
yoke;" but through the mercy of his heavenly Father, 
the dispensation was blessed. He saw the vanity of his 
past course, and was enabled to take a more correct esti- 
mate of the end of his being, its object, and its duties. 
We have scarcely any particulars of many of the succeed- 
ing years of his life : he settled down in his native village, 
and pursued his ordinary avocations in life as a grazier; his 
attachment to the principles and practices of our religious 
Society increased, and he was respected and beloved by his 
friends ; but a full surrender of his heart to the government 
of the Holy Spirit had not been made, and hence he did not 
show forth that consistency of Christian character which 
was afterwards conspicuous in him. 

About ten or twelve years after the event already referred 
to, he entered into married life with Rachel Procter 
of Selby. The enjoyment of this connexion was not of 



vii 



very long duration. In 1808 he was deprived of his 
beloved companion, and left with a family of young chil- 
dren. They had been closely united; and she was taken 
from him after a very short and painful illness; this be- 
reavement was acutely felt by his sensitive mind. 

fn the course of the following year, whilst attending 
upon that devoted servant of Christ, Deborah Darby, who 
was with her companion on a religious visit in his neigh- 
bourhood, he first spoke as a minister of the Gospel. His 
ministry 66 was not in many words, but under a feeling of 
Divine requiring, and it found great acceptance with his 
friends. " To this short, but full testimony of the Friends of 
his Monthly Meeting, who knew him long and well, they 
further add, that he " was greatly beloved by them, and in 
a particular manner by those who knew the most of him ; 
his humility and condescending kindness to his friends 
greatly endeared him to them. He was a truly valuable 
and most affectionate husband^ a kind and watchful 
father, and to his neighbours generally, but particularly 
to the poor ; his attention to their tried situations and relief 
of their wants, were very frequent and acceptable." 

It may be further remarked, that his ministry was much 
valued by his friends generally. It was delivered in much 
simplicity and religious feeling, short, but comprehensive, 
and in that Gospel authority which rendered it both instruc- 
tive and edifying to the assembly. His public petitions at 
the throne of grace were solemn and reverent, in few 
words; and being offered in the Spirit, often tended to 
spread a spirit of supplication over the meeting. 

In private intercourse with his friends, his society was 



viii 



much valued. His conversation was instructive; he was 
particularly careful not to reflect upon the failings of 
others ; his own personal trials and constitution of mind 
gave a seriousness, but not a gloom to his general deport- 
ment; and his gentle, retiring manners, blended with 
Christian independence and politeness, endeared him to 
his friends, whilst it led them to treat him with respect and 
deference. He was peculiarly qualified to share with those 
in trouble, and ready to manifest his sympathy, whether 
these troubles arose from mental conflict or adverse circum- 
stances. 

A near relative, who from his early life was permitted 
to share his friendship, thus writes of his honoured uncle. 
" To the youth he loved to address himself; and to this 
important class, both on solemn religious occasions, and 
during the hours of social enjoyment, he rendered himself 
particularly attractive. His lively recollections of the feel- 
ings incident to their age; his charitable allowance for 
unintentional failings; his discriminating judgment and 
unceasing courtesy, while they commanded admiration, 
softened, enlarged, and edified the hearts of his juvenile 
friends. If thev were of a literarv turn, his knowledge of 
the best authors furnished him with subjects congenial to 
their taste. If conversation of a more general character 
prevailed, he enriched it with the observations of a Chris- 
tian philosopher, and was admirably qualified to give an 
improving direction to what might otherwise have degene- 
rated into trifles. If rural affairs were preferred, as a 
practical agriculturist he would often prove interesting, 
and seldom failed to secure their attention. If they en- 



ix 

joyed the beauties of nature, he enjoyed them also, in no 
ordinary degree, and willingly imparted the fruits of his 
careful observation and pious reflection. 

" In these conversations, which I have often listened to 
with delight, his own admiration of a beneficent Creator, 
as discovered in the rich variety of his works, habitually 
led him to excite a similar feeling: in the minds of others. 
A shell, a stone, or a seemingly insignificant plant, fur- 
nished him with subjects on which instructively to dilate : 
for he loved to lead his hearers from created beauty, to 
reflect on that perfection which was without beginning, 
and will have no end. The productions and operations of 
nature he viewed as so many evidences of a wise and bene- 
ficent Being, who though perpetually opposed by his 
rebellious creatures, has mercifully designed and provided 
for the happiness of all. Possessing such sentiments, it 
may easily be supposed, that the rural avocations to which 
he had been trained, inspired him with pleasures unknown 
to those of less cultivated minds. Through the fine old 
ashes in front of his windows, (which he sometimes appro- 
priately denominated the trees of his forefathers,) how often 
have I seen him gaze with solemn admiration on the 
splendour of a setting sun, or behold with similar emo- 
tion the magnificence of a starry sky ! " 

The subjoined memorandums, written at different inter- 
vals, appear worthy of being preserved. 

" 1808, 6 mo. 26. — As many w T ords of our own prevent 
our hearing distinctly the outward voice of others, so 
do the cogitations of the mind prevent our distinguish- 
ing those spiritual motions, and hearing that still, small 

a 5 



voice, by which our individual religious duties are disco- 
vered to us : therefore the necessity of silence in both 

cases. 

" As it is perfectly consistent with every divine attribute 
that there should be, so I verily believe there is an imme- 
diate spiritual intercourse between the soul of man and its 
Creator, by which communication his soul is introduced 
into unity with its Divine source, and into sympathy with 
its fellow-creatures, — is informed, chastised, or comforted, 
suffers or reigns, according as its state, and the state of 
others may require. 

"It seems as if there was at times an exercise on behalf 
of others produced in the mind, which, like the wind that 
bloweth when and where it listeth, cometh on and goeth 
off we scarcely know how; and yet the sound of it is 
heard with sufficient clearness to warrant our moving 
under its influence in religious endeavours to promote the 
glory of our Creator, and the spiritual good of mankind, 

" 1S08, 8 7710, 2. — It occurred to me this morning, whilst 
engaged in mental retirement and prostration of soul 
before Him who scrutinizes not only our actions but our 
thoughts; and whose piercing eye divides as it were between 
joints and marrow, and penetrates into the inmost recesses 
of our deceitful hearts, that to affect the use of high-flown, 
and what are called learned expressions, for the sake of 
displaying either our natural or acquired abilities, or to 
please the itching ears of men, is equally reprehensible 
with the use of gay clothing, or sumptuous furniture, and 



xi 

is only another shape of pride and ostentation ; and of this 
fault, 0 my soul, thou hast great need especially to beware. 

" Sitting at breakfast, my mind was bowed in thankful- 
ness for the plentiful and comfortable table, which Provi- 
dence in the riches of his bounty enables me to spread for 
my dear children, whilst thousands of perhaps far more 
worthy receivers are not so amply provided for; — which 
humbles me under a deep sense of the very inadequate re- 
turns I seem able to make, though I hope I feel some de- 
gree of that contrition of heart, which He condescends 
not to despise. 

" 1826, 6 mo. 17. — I love to contemplate the Deity in 
the threefold character under which He has condescended 
to reveal himself for the benefit of lost and sinful man, as 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ; but I seem the most pro- 
foundly to adore Him, as an infinite and incomprehensible 
unity — an ineffable and unapproachable glory,— an un- 
utterable and incommunicable name. ' I am that I am/ 
said the Lord to Moses. (Exod. iii. 14.) 

" 1828, 2 mo. 23. — On a view of the weakness and cor- 
ruption of human nature, abstractedly considered, my poor 
mind has at seasons been brought to the borders of de- 
spair ; so that I have even been almost discouraged from 
lifting up either my eyes or my hands towards heaven, by 
a fear of hypocrisy, and under the solemn consideration, 
that the very thoughts of the wicked are an abomination 
to the Lord. Yet when by this humbling process I 
have become so far reduced as to prostrate myself at 



xii 

the footstool of Divine mercy, as a helpless, hopeless 
sinner, my plea, though ofttimes a silent one, has not been 
rejected by the sinner's Friend. 6 He will regard the- 
prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer.' He 
has had compassion on me ; and blessed be his holy name 
for ever, has raised the beggar from the dunghill, and per- 
mitted me again to live in his sight. And let not such an 
experience as this appear strange to the reader, see- 
ing ' no man can keep alive (unto God) his own 
soul.' 

" 1828, 4 mo. 15. — As the bullock unaccustomed to the 
yoke is generally impatient at its being laid upon him, so 
man under the early visitations of affliction, or the first 
restraints of the cross, is uneasy at their weight, and reluc- 
tant to bear them. Resistance, however, proving vain, and 
only increasing the suffering, submission is at length re- 
sorted to, as affording the only prospect of relief ; and 
well it is for us when we are thus wise, as death or destruc- 
tion might be expected to follow an unavailing and conti- 
nued opposition. 'Who may stand in thy sight when 
once thou art angry?' And when this submission, an- 
other name for resignation, is accompanied by prayer, then 
our trouble, whatever be its nature, becomes transformed 
into the light and easy yoke of Christ Jesus our Lord. 
Through his assistance, vouchsafed to our humble petitions, 
we learn to bear the burden of it cheerfully ; — we go fonh 
to the portion of labour assigned us with willingness, or 
bend under our secret sorrows, if these be our lot, without 
repining. Blessed and happy experience I 



1 1 « 

xin 



" Paul may plant and Apollos water, but it is God who 
giveth the increase. (1 Cor. iii. 6.) The Lord expects 
his servants to labour in their respective callings, and 
perform their required duties, whether of a temporal or 
spiritual nature, with as much industry and diligence as 
if the success of their endeavours were at their own 
command ; but this success is notwithstanding a part 
of his own prerogative, which He reserves for himself. 
We must therefore strive as if everything depended on 
ourselves, yet we should also assuredly believe that God 
only can give the increase. So equally true it is, that 
although man may build and watch a city, it is the Lord 
only who can keep and preserve it from innumerable perils, 

" 1833, 11 mo. — A poor, irresolute and fallen creature, 
is desirous of obtaining a crown immortal, by 6 fighting 
the good fight of faith/ against those potent enemies, the 
world, the flesh, and the devil; — the world, in all its seduc- 
tive and terrific vicissitudes, the flesh in its corruptions, 
and the devil, in the plenitude of his malevolence and 
power. O ! merciful and omnipotent Lord God, be pleased 
to assist a trembling sinner in this unequal warfare, or the 
victory can never be obtained ; but through thy aid in 
Christ Jesus, we may be made more than conquerors. 
With Thee, all things are possible, and thy strength is 
made perfect in human weakness. As without Thee nothing 
that is truly good can prosper, so against thy holy will and 
power, nothing that is evil shall ever be able to prevail. 

" 1833, 11 mo. — O most gracious God ! Be pleased for 
thy great Name's sake, thy dear Son's sake, and my immortal 



xiv 

soul's sake, to forgive the manifold infirmities of a vain and 
roving imagination. Pardon, I humbly and reverently pray 
Thee, the mighty sins of my youth by actual transgression ; 
and if it be not too much to implore even of thy infinite mercy, 
love me freely. When I groan the unspeakable groan., 
incline thine ear to hear ; when I shed — alas, how seldom ! 
— the tear of contrition, put it into thy bottle; and if ever 
at thy command, and by the assistance of thy grace, I have 
performed the least work of faith and obedience, let it 
be recorded in thy book of remembrance, that through 
the intercession of thy appointed Mediator, I may finally 
be emboldened to render up my account, with humble 
confidence and trembling joy. 

1 4 Of all the weights and burdens which the Christian travel- 
ler has to bear in his pilgrimage through this world, perhaps 
on a due estimate, none will be found to be heavier than him- 
self ; nor anything which in the retrospect oppresses him with 
greater sorrow and a deeper humiliation than the sense of 
his own un worthiness— a word of no lofty sound, yet when 
contemplated in its causes, its effects, and its associations, 
of very comprehensive and significant import. 

6 ' I am aware that both in speaking and writing, I may often 
seem to take a low view of human nature, and of religious 
society. But when I consider the description of the heart of 
man, as given by Him who best knew it ; when I contem- 
plate the beatitudes and the woes of the Gospel, as pro- 
nounced by the same high authority ; or when I turn from 
these, and fix my attention on the states to which the pre- 
cious promises and awful threatenings of the Old Testa- 
ment Scriptures were addressed, (without adverting to my 



XV 



own experience,) I find myself justified in the conclusion 5 
that humility was made for man, but pride was not, and that 
in all stations and circumstances into which he can possibly 
be brought, it especially becomes his precarious and 
dependent condition. 

" 1834, 10 mo. 8. — The noble faculty of human reason, 
or the understanding of man, abstractedly considered, 
capable of improvement as it confessedly is, still has its 
boundaries and limitations ; and it is of much importance 
to ascertain as far as possible what these limits are ; as it 
is no little disparagement to reason, and often attended 
with danger, both to ourselves and others, to apply it to 
subjects, especially in religion and philosophy, to which it 
is incompetent. It is either on doubtful questions, 
ambiguous expressions, or certain abstruse oppositions of 
science, falsely so called, that the sophist and the infidel 
lay the foundation of that structure, which they proudly 
as vainly imagine shall reach up to heaven ; but which, 
however specious or fair in appearance, yet being built on 
the sand, will neither be able to withstand the shock of the 
tempest, nor endure the penetrating effulgence of the sun 
of righteousness. Before these every Babel must fall, and 
those who build it will be confounded, even as Dagon 
of old fell prostrate before the ark of the Lord." 

Some time before his death, our beloved friend gave up 
his farm to his eldest son, and retired to a small com- 
fortable house close by, where he spent many of the de- 
clining years of life. This peaceful dwelling was at a little 
distance on the left hand, from the high road from Long 
Sutton to Holbeach. 



xvi 



In the early part of the second month, 1835, he was 
taken alarmingly ill whilst on a visit to one of his sons ; 
and for several days there appeared to himself and those 
about him but little prospect of his recovery. Throughout 
the whole of this illness, during which his sufferings were 
at times very severe, he was mercifully preserved in great 
patience, and resignation to the Divine will. To a friend 
who visited him he remarked, " When the world is receding 
from us, and eternity opening to our view, how precious it 
is to have an interest in a Redeemer ! how delightful it is 
to know Him to be our Redeemer, our Mediator, our 
Advocate with the Father, and above all our Saviour !" As 
the prospect of a separation from his friends increased, he 
was very anxious to bear his testimony to the reality and 
efficacy of the immediate visitations of the Spirit of Truth, 
of the operations of which he gave some remarkable in- 
stances in his own experience. 

After a few weeks, he so far recovered as to be able to 
return home, where his health and strength gradually im- 
proved. The evening before his death he spent very 
cheerfully with his family, and retired to rest as well as 
usual. About two in the morning, he was seized with violent 
pain in the chest, which continued with but little intermis- 
sion for about an hour. During this time he was perfectly 
sensible, and at times supplicated for ease. This was 
mercifully granted about three, and after a few minutes 
of peaceful tranquillity, he gently ceased to breathe—on 
the first of the fourth month, 1835, in the seventy-sixth year 
of his age. 

J. F. 

Tottenham, 7th mo, 1841. 



A Tribute to the Memory of Jonathan Hutchinson. 
By J. J. Gurney. 



" It was on a beautiful bright day of sunshine, when his 
favourite green Gedney looked greener than usual, that my 
late dear wife and myself attended the funeral of my 
beloved friend and father in the truth, Jonathan Hutchin- 
son. A great many friends were convened from different 
places, and the villagers of the place and neighbourhood, 
flocked in large numbers, and in their most decent dresses, 
to pay their last token of respect to 6 the best man of 
Gedney.' ' So the best man in Gedney is gone/ said one 
poor labourer to another. ' What 1 ' said the other, 6 is 
Mr. Hutchinson dead ? ' His remains were deposited in a 
little family burying-ground, not very far from his own 
home, where his respectable though not wealthy predeces- 
sors had been laid in their turns during several genera- 
tions, and which he had taken the pains to plant with 
considerable taste. Indeed it was truly remarkable with 
what skill this ardent and almost poetic lover of nature, 
had contrived to adorn, by judicious planting, the small 
estate of rich pasture land which he inherited from his an- 
cestors, who had possessed and occupied the same little 
farm as he did for the period, as I understand, of about 200 
years, never rising above or falling below the rank of re- 
putable yeomen ; and since the rise of Friends, members 
of that religious Society. Nothing can be said of the 



xviii 

picturesque appearance of low Lincolnshire ; but to this 
general remark, his little domain, cultivated and adorned as 
it was by its late beloved owner, forms a striking exception. 

" To revert to the funeral ; it was an occasion of precious, 
comforting solemnity. The meeting-house is at the dis- 
tance of a mile from the place of interment ; but the 
assembled company followed the train of friends and rela- 
tions, first to the meeting, and afterwards to the grave, in 
the most orderly manner. The meeting afforded a full 
opportunity for reverent waiting upon the Lord, and for the 
preaching of the glorious Gospel of our Holy Redeemer ; 
and at the grave, the thickening circle of friends and 
neighbours were again addressed ; all seemed united not 
only in a sense of their own great loss, but in some view 
and apprehension of his blessedness, — the blessedness of 
one who had lived and died in the Lord. The striking 
mark of affection and respect which was shown on that day 
by the inhabitants of a rather extensive district around his 
home, was obviously the result of the influence which is 
gradually obtained over a surrounding population by the 
weight of sound, practical, but unostentatious Christianity. 
The good man was gone; the meek, kind, humble, 
generous neighbour was no more ; and many were they of 
every description who seemed ready to rally round his 
grave in the remembrance of his virtues. 

" Never did I meet with a fellow pilgrim towards the 
heavenly Zion, who was more acutely and more constantly 
alive to his own demerits. He used to tell me that this was 
a point on which his many afflictions peculiarly led him to 
dwell. 6 Never mind,' would he say 6 I am fully aware 
that whatsoever it befalls me to suffer, I deserve it ; and 



xix 

that whatsoever of comfort and happiness is cast into my 
cup of mixture, it is all of unmerited kindness and mercy.' 
He knew much of the depth of the fall of man, and of the 
extent and awfulness of his ruin by nature ; and just in 
proportion to his visions and feelings on this subject, was 
his estimate of the infinite value of Jesus — Immanuel — the 
Saviour of mankind. 

66 It was at an early period of our acquaintance that we 
were companions on the committee of the Yearly Meeting 
appointed to try the appeal of the late Thomas Foster, who 
had been disowned for holding and propagating Unitarian 
sentiments. After the committee had come to the conclu- 
sion to confirm the disownment, and had settled down into 
deep and solemn silence, it was Jonathan Hutchinson who 
broke that silence in the following expressions : ' I know 
not how my brethren may be affected, but I heartily 
rejoice in the decision of the committee ; for as it regards 
myself I can indeed say with truth, that without Christ I 
should be of all men most miserable.' These w r ords in- 
dicated the constant tenor of his mind on the subject of 
religion ; and whilst he never let down the standard 
of practical piety, and ever pleaded for that Divine 
influence which can alone prepare us for heaven, he was 
anxious that in the declarations and writings of his friends, 
the door should be left fully open for the poor penitent 
who even at the eleventh hour, even in his latest extremity, 
like the thief on the cross, should turn with all his heart 
and in simple faith, to Him in whom dwells all the fulness 
of saving righteousness and forgiving mercy. 

" He w 7 as humble in a larger and deeper sense of the ex- 
pression than is often the case even with experienced 



XX 



Christians, and looked back with many tears, and sometimes 
with conflict of spirit, to the wanderings of his early days. 
I am not aware that he ever indulged in the vices, or even 
much of the gaiety of the world ; but his imagination was 
fertile, he was of a contemplative turn of mind : and he 
was at one time during his early manhood much inclined 
to a hard-hearted speculative unbelief, a state of mind 
closely connected with the pride of intellect, and an almost 
obstinate unwillingness to sacrifice his independence, and 
to bow his neck under the yoke of Christ. He spent much 
of his time, I believe, in solitary rides over the country, 
when his mind had full leisure to roam at large in those 
regions of dangerous speculation to which he was prone ; 
but the Lord met with him on his way by some remarkable 
visitations, and thus brought him home to himself in the 
ever-blessed covenant of light and life. 

" Living in a retired village, the principal member of a 
very small meeting, and belonging to a Quarterly Meeting, 
the members of which were by no means numerous, and 
scattered over an extensive district, our dear friend en- 
joyed far less frequent opportunities of religious association 
than fall to the lot of many of his brethren. He presented 
a remarkable example of that silent growth in grace, of 
that gradual deepening of the root, and unfolding of the 
precious plant above, which is sometimes effected by virtue 
of the dews and rains of heaven with very little of human 
instrumentality — the advancing process being little per- 
ceptible from day to day to the beholders, much less to the 
individual who is growing, but nevertheless real, * first 
the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear.' I have 
often found occasion to observe in visiting friends in various 



xxi 



parts of -the country, that it is not always those who have 
the greatest advantages in point of outward administration 
who make the greatest progress in the Truth. I have 
sometimes found brethren and sisters in solitary places — 
young people as well as old — who very seldom enjoyed 
the privilege of hearing the Gospel preached, but who never- 
theless were evidently living under the enlivening, guiding, 
and restraining influences of the Holy Spirit. Just such was 
eminently the subject of this memoir ; though he had once 
been a revolter against the Lord, and though but little of 
human help fell to his portion, he had his blessed share in 
the fulfilment of that gracious promise, 4 1 will be as the 
dew unto Israel : he shall grow as the lily, and cast forth 
his roots as Lebanon/ 

" While the experience of very many in our Society affords 
a proof of the excellence of those principles which tend to 
wean us from everv arm of flesh, and to bring us into im- 
mediate dependence on Him in whom are our springs, 
there is nothing in this experience which in any degree 
justifies the neglect of those lawful and profitable means of 
religious edification which our heavenly Father has placed 
within our reach. Among the most important of these means 
is the perusal of the Holy Scriptures. Our late beloved friend 
was diligent in the performance of this duty — a duty which 
perfectly coincided with that devotional taste which now 
marked his character. He loved the Scriptures, as contain- 
ing the message of his God, a message unutterably dear to 
him because it testified of Christ ; nor were any parts of 
the volume so precious to him, as those which set forth the 
helplessness and corruption of fallen man on one hand, 
and the treasures of redeeming love on the other. The humi- 



XXII 

liations of David, and the love, faith, and allegiance of 
Paul, were equally familiar to his penitent spirit. 

" Another means of spiritual benefit in the use of which 
Jonathan Hutchinson was remarkably diligent was the re- 
gular attendance of his meetings, both for worship and dis- 
cipline. In order to be present at the latter, in which his 
weight of character and sound discretion gave him large in- 
fluence, he was accustomed to pass much of his time in 
travelling ; for his Monthly Meeting was generally held at 
places considerably distant from Gedney, and his Quarterly 
Meetings at Lincoln, fifty miles from his home. No 
inclemency of weather, no controlable inconvenience, 
prevented his regularly attending these meetings, greatly 
to the comfort of his friends ; nor was the time passed in 
solitude on the road an idle time to him. His thoughts 
and contemplations were upon God, upon his people, upon 
his precious cause. 

"I never knew Jonathan Hutchinson as a husband, for 
his wife was dead before our acquaintance commenced ; 
but I can testify that he was a tender, affectionate, careful 
father. With his two daughters, Rachel and Lydia, he 
kept up an intimate, individual "friendship. They both 
married, and died in their confinement : Lydia in her 
father's lifetime, Rachel after his death. Their memory is 
dear to me ; for they were worthy of their parent, and 
fondly cherished him as the object of their unfeigned re- 
verence as well as love. He was a person of far too good 
sense to attempt an escape from his true sphere of life, 
or to neglect the business by which he maintained his 
family. He was a skilful, practical farmer, exceeded, I 
believe, by none of his neighbours in such matters ; yet he 



XX1U 



was very far superior to the generality of persons of his 
class in point of intellectual cultivation. He read much 
and variously, and thought deeply and largely on many 
subjects ; nor did he neglect the wholesome cultivation 
even of the imagination. He was fond of poetry, and I 
venture to assert that the beauties of nature were to him 
clothed in almost double brightness. No man better un- 
derstood the meaning of the poet's words, ' My Father 
made them all/ 

" With such pursuits, tastes, and habits of mind, and with 
a disposition remarkably formed for friendship, he was a 
choice companion to all who shared an intimate association 
with him, both old and young. One hour of tete-a-tete 
with him, never failed to be a source of pure pleasure to me ; 
for the resources of his mind were rich, and the glow of re- 
ligion was over them all. Our close agreement on all points 
of a religious nature, and on many of a merely intellectual 
character, was the means of bringing us into a near 
and easy friendship, which I shail, I believe, always look 
back upon as one of the choicest privileges of my life. 

" Before I conclude, I would say a few words on the sub- 
ject of his ministry. It was very peculiar, being a large 
gift in a few words. His communications were almost uni- 
formly very short; seldom continued for more than a few 
minutes ; but they were remarkably full of matter, evan- 
gelical in substance, simple in manner, and lively through 
the power of the Holy Spirit. They were often that on 
which the contemplative mind might dwell for hours. In 
prayer he was fervent, humble, simple, and emphatic. 

"A painful disease, I believe in the heart, carried him off 
very suddenly. The unexpected attack came on in the 



xxiv 



course of the night, after he had retired to rest consider- 
ably better than usual. The pain was violent, though short ; 
and death ensued without the opportunity of any expres- 
sion except a very short prayer, and I may add without a 
struggle. Surely this beloved friend, this humble devoted 
Christian rests in Jesus ; surely when Christ, who is our 
life, shall appear, he will appear with Him in glory. May I 
die the death of the righteous; and may my last end be 
like his! Amen and amen. 

J.J. Gurnet." 

" On board the Monongahela, from 
Liverpool to Philadelphia. 
7 mo. 22, 1837." 



EXTRACTS, &c. 



No. 1. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1807, 4 mo. 11. — I feel a liberty to give thee some ac- 
count of mv own journeying thus far through the devious 
paths of life. Although I received but a common education, 
yet I contracted at an early period a much greater inclination 
to the pursuit of abstract and metaphysical inquiries than 
simple and obvious truths. By this means, as might be ex- 
pected, my incautious and inexperienced feet soon became en- 
tangled in the snares of that vain and false philosophy which, 
according to the beautiful language of the poet, only " leads 
to bewilder and dazzles to blind/' and so perplexes the mind 
with shade after shade, that doubt succeeding doubt, like 
still ascending mountains, at length presents an awful and 
almost inaccessible barrier between the soul and its God. 

Well, my dear friend, through this land of darkness and 
shadow of death I have wandered, where none knows but 
myself, and few could believe what I met with. Suffice it 
at present to say, that even here Divine mercy and re- 
gard were manifested for my deliverance, sometimes by 
the melting language of invitation and love, and at others 
by stripe deservedly succeeding stripe. But alas ! I had 

B 



2 



become such an enemy to the Cross, and was so desirous 
of finding an easier way to the kingdom than by it, that 
it w^as not until I had tried almost everything, and was 
reduced by the mere force of mental affliction, that I could 
be prevailed upon to submit to its salutary discipline : since 
which, — as indeed infinite is the obligation, — I hope I have 
not been wilfully rebellious ; but though in much weakness 
and fear, yet I trust, in some good degree of simplicity and 
sincerity, I have endeavoured to run with patience the race 
that is set before me. 

But that which has most particularly impressed me as 
matter for serious communication, is an apprehension that 
has for some time attended me, that in this day of too general 
departure from the ancient paths of simplicity and truth 
w T hich our forefathers believed it their duty to walk in, 
those who may be designed by Infinite Wisdom to support 
the characters of such judges as the first, and such coun- 
sellors as were found in the beginning of our Society, — and 
who from the fewness of their numbers, and the solitude of 
their situations, may be compared to one of a city, and 
two of a family, — will have to go deep into suffering. And 
though it is very far from my design, either to weaken 
or depreciate the strong and tender ties of natural affection, 
domestic endearment, or social love, which not only form 
what is most estimable in the bond of outward union, but 
as sweeteners of the mingled cup of life are enjoyments 
which I believe religion allows us freely to partake of, — yet 
I also believe that some of those who are obedient to the 
call above mentioned, will have to pass through trials simi- 
lar to what not unfrequently have attended newly-con- 
vinced persons, experiencing the truth of our Lord's decla- 
ration, that He came not to send peace on earth, but a 



3 



sword. This at first sight appears so hard a saying, that 
we are ready to say, Who indeed can hear it ? yet 
though the trial still remains, the difficulty seems much re- 
conciled by considering that the difference in question is of 
a nature which does not lessen the affection of the true 
disciple towards those from whom he may nevertheless 
feel himself bound to dissent, both in judgment and prac- 
tice ; though for a time, for want of being fully understood 
by them, it may fare with him as with the apostle for- 
merly, " The more he loves, the less he is loved." 

This is a situation which surely may be compared to Ja- 
cob's trouble, wherein the mind, clothed with unusual sen- 
sibility, and peculiarly alive to every tender impulse and 
painful emotion, feels a contemptuous look, or a reproach- 
ful word, to be like a sharp sword, aiming, and alas often 
too successfully, a wounding blow at the heart, which 
seems to exceed in poignancy and anguish, even what 
we have ever conceived to be the pangs of natural death, 
and which we also feel to be dangerous. 0 may it never 
be destructive to that spiritual life, which is hid from the 
wise and prudent of this world; for did they behold it, 
charity inclines us to hope, they would not thus perse- 
cute it. 

In these seasons of deep probation, may we remember 
for our encouragement, that the Captain of our salvation 
was made perfect through sufferings, — that he was treated 
with every kind of ignominy and insult, and finally in the 
opinion of men led to a shameful and inglorious death. 
And may the remembrance of these things animate us 
with fresh courage to renew our endeavours to follow him 
even to Calvary, bearing his reproach. 

I hope thou wilt not consider what has dropped from me 

b 2 



4 



on these serious subjects as calculated to throw unneces- 
sary gloom or difficulty upon the narrow way which leads 
to life. I am, at least if I know my own heart, very dif- 
ferently disposed, and would, were it possible, as many 
are vainly endeavouring to do, strew it with flowers; 
but I know too well the folly of such an attempt. 
I think I have found, by an experience purchased at no 
easy rate, that the divine truths of the Christian religion 
will not bend to accommodate the selfish views of the na- 
tural man. No, immovable as the rock from whence they 
sprang, they will, like it, for ever bid defiance to all the 
opposition which the united powers of violence and so- 
phistry can bring against them. "What I then so earnestly 
covet, and which seems to be the ground of my present ex- 
ercise for myself and for thee, is, that we may become more 
and more firmly established in these inestimable, essential, 
and unchangeable truths ; that our hearts may indeed be- 
come fixed, trusting in the Lord alone ; and that we may 
be so built upon Him, as never more to be separated from 
his love. 



No. 2. To Joseph Gurney. 

1808, 2 mo. 26. — In those trying moments which I 
have lately had to pass through,* wherein my feeble nature, 
exhausted and trembling under the sudden, unexpected, 
and awful stroke which she had sustained, reclined by 
turns her weary head upon every breast from whence she 
could hope for a little of that consolation which true friend- 
ship affords, — in this season of affliction thou wast brought 

* This has allusion to the loss of his beloved wife, who had died 
a few weeks previously, after a very short and suffering illness. 



to my mind with such an assurance of thy sympathy, that 
to have followed the impulse of my first feelings, I believe 
I should have transmitted to thee, in common with my 
nearest relations and friends, early information of the re- 
moval of my beloved companion, with the intended time of 
her interment ; but on reasoning a little upon it, and not 
seeing what should bear me out in using such a freedom, 
I declined it, and thereby it seems as if I had deprived 
myself and my friends of thy acceptable company on that 
solemn occasion. This having been the case, induces me to 
make nearly my first attempt upon paper since that time, 
to acknowledge the receipt of thy kind and sympa- 
thizing lines, which I think were as consoling to me as any- 
thing of a similar nature could be expected to be, at the 
same period of time. 

It may perhaps afford thee some satisfaction to know, 
that I and my little helpless children have been remem- 
bered by divers of our dear relations and friends, from some 
of whom we have received kind testimonials of sympathetic 
regard ; and I trust I may without presumption add, that 
the desires they have affectionately expressed for my 
support have been measurably fulfilled. My mind, after 
recovering its first shock, though greatly reduced, even to 
the state of considering myself little better than a reptile 
of creation, has notwithstanding been so far preserved in 
quietude and contrition, as seldom to be entirely bereft of 
a hope, that proved like an anchor in those storms, which 
in times of outward weakness and inward trial are apt to 
assail, and at seasons almost threaten to overwhelm us. 
So that on taking a general retrospect of my life, which, 
though obscure has not been without its vicissitudes, and 
considering how often I have been mercifully preserved 



6 



from suffering shipwreck, I can address Him who has 
helped me in this grateful language, " For all I thank 
Thee:" but when I go into a still deeper recollection of 
some particular circumstances that have attended me, and 
consider the chastisement I have justly incurred, with the 
violence which has been necessarv to rend the attachments 
of my heart from this world, under these impressions I 
feel almost strength enough to kiss the rod, and to add, 
with faltering utterance, " most for the severe." 

No. 3. To Herbert and Mary Camm. 

Welboum, 1808, 4 mo. 6. — Does it not seem that the 
principal object of our greatest affliction, in connection with 
the lesser every-day trials to which we are exposed, is to 
reduce us, or to try if we be reduced, to a passive acqui- 
escence under the varied dispensations of Providence, so 
that whilst we retain a sensibility that may be almost said 
to be tremblingly alive, our wills may be so far lost and 
absorbed in the love of the Divine will, that we shall re- 
ceive suffering or rejoicing therein with an equal mind? 
But alas ! whilst I am thus describing that excellent state 
which in theory appears so beautiful ; — and realized, would 
perhaps be little short of the 44 mark for the prize," I am com- 
pelled to blush at my own infantile attainments. Though 
I may thankfully acknowledge that those emotions of na- 
ture occasioned by the sudden and unexpected stroke 
which deprived me of a beloved companion, have been suc- 
ceeded by a greater degree of calm and contrite submission 
than, considering my manifold infirmities and imperfections, 
I could have reasonably expected. So that I have at 
seasons been enabled with tears to put up my petition to 



7 



the following import : " 0 Lord, if it please Thee, look 
down with compassionate regard on thy poor creature on 
whom it has pleased Thee once more to lay thine hand in 
affliction, and let his helpless offspring become objects of 
thy tender care. Forget not to be gracious to a being, who 
though but a worm, is yet also a part of thy rational crea- 
tion — a being not only formed by thy marvellous power, 
but upheld and supported in existence, from his cradle to 
the present day, by thy goodness and long-suffering mercy." 
My feelings almost prevent my writing with tolerable cor- 
rectness ; you will make allowance for me, and perhaps be 
just able to form a little judgment how it is with me. 
"When it fares well with you, remember me. 



No. 4, To Joseph Gurney. 

1808, 7 mo. 28.— I find the present clouded, dark, and 
rainy day is but too emblematic of the state of my mind ; and 
whilst I sigh complaint to Him who seeth in secret, I am 
impelled by an inclination, I will not say an allowable one, 
to pour some of the effusions of a still afflicted heart, into 
the sympathetic bosom of a friend. But what shall I say? 
Privileged beyond thousands of perhaps more deserving 
fellow-creatures, can I say anything that will not border 
upon murmuring ? and ought I not rather to lay my hand 
upon my mouth ? Oh ! my dear friend, the last few 
months of my life, as thou knowest, have been fraught with 
vicissitudes the most painful to nature ; and these have 
produced an experience which, whilst it seems to baffle de- 
scription, has excited the desire that, if consistent with a 
wisdom which I believe we both acknowledge to be inscru- 
table, may never be thine. 



8 



I look at my dear little children ; I look at the world : I re- 
view that part of my pilgrimage already passed, and I antici- 
pate, though with much uncertainty, that which is involved 
in futurity ; and with this affecting prospect of things, I 
am ready to tremble for myself and for them. Under this 
deep and solemn exercise, I think the greatest relief I have 
found, has arisen from feeling just able to make this appeal : 
u Lord ! I acknowledge the justice of thy correcting hand, 
and I still desire submissively to bow under the various turn- 
ings thereof upon me. 

29th.— Believing, and almost regretting the degree of 
suffering into which thy mind may be introduced by what 
I wrote yesterday, I wish to make thee a partaker of a 
little consolation which I seem to have received, by find- 
ing my mind, on waking early this morning, covered with 
contrition, and enabled to breathe, on behalf of myself and my 
dear children, for preservation from the evils of this world. 
And whilst under this exercise, the recollection that this was 
one of the petitions which our dear Lord when on earth 
put up for his disciples, and what He also instructed them 
to pray for on their own account ; I was encouraged upon 
the whole to emerge a little from the depth of that conflict 
into which my mind has of late been unusually baptized, 
and once more to lift up my head in humble hope. Mar- 
vellous indeed are the dealings of the Lord with us poor 
creatures of the dust ! 

No. 5. To Joseph Gurney. 

1808, 8 mo. 10. — I received thy truly acceptable letter 
yesterday, to which I think I have more reason than thou 
hadst to mine to apply the epithet of " grateful," because 



9 



it not only conveyed what I intended, the language of 
friendship, but it also contained, what mine had not to 
boast, that of instructive consolation. Yes, my dear friend, 
I mean no flattery when I say, it was to me like a drop of 
balm distilling upon a lacerated breast. 

I think with thee, that a desire to know, and an endea- 
vour to do, the business of the present hour, is about " the 
amount of our allotment ;" and in answer to thy query, c Do 
we gain much strength by looking at what may be?' I think 
I can experimentally answer, 6 Indeed we do not to which 
I may also add, that I have not ^infrequently been driven, 
as to a last resource, to the consolatory encouragement of 
the text thou hast quoted, " Sufficient to the day is the 
evil thereof." But notwithstanding all mv knowledge of 
these things, and my seeming sometimes almost established 
in the present truth, I am apt to flag, and find not only 
my best theories, but former experience, unavailing to keep 
my mind wound up to that pitch of faith, and its concomi- 
tant virtue, patience, which is I believe necessary to our 
religious progress ; so that I can very feelingly adopt the 
remarkable language of our dear ancient friend Thomas 
Ross in his last illness, that of all the difficulties attendant 
on his passage through life, he found it one of the greatest 
when he was right to keep so. 

In consequence of the Yearly Meeting's Minute, the 
subjects of the fourth query were brought under the con- 
sideration of Friends at the Monthly Meeting at , and 

I thought it safest for me to endeavour to press the im- 
portance and propriety of consistency in religious character. 
In doing this, I mentioned my observation of the nice 
manner in which the world scrutinized our conduct, and 
with what triumphant and exulting scorn it looked down 



10 



upon us when that conduct was not consistent with our 
principles ; for though it might affect to smile at the sin- 
gularity into which a faithful adherence to these principles 
might lead, yet in reality it respected them. 

On sitting down, it seemed to me that I had used a 
plainness of speech which perhaps might offend ; and as I 
do not like to give offence, I became rather uncomfortable 
on that score. But on turning things over a little in my 
mind, a query arose, What then must be done ? Must I 
seek reconciliation with the world, and the spirit of it ? Xo, 
rather let me fly for refuge into a deeper resignation to bear 
its reproach ; and let the reputation of pleasing men, and of 
walking after the course of this world, though once almost 
as dear to me as life, become of less and less value in my 
eyes, enabling me to adopt that crucifying language of a 
pious writer, — I think Cambray, — expressed nearly in these 
words, " Let them [the children of this world] despise, 
let them abhor me, let them trample upon me as upon the 
graves of the dead." I believe thou wilt not infer from my 
writing thus, that I wish to encourage a severe and unchari- 
table behaviour towards others. No, I believe even those 
who ought to be apt to teach, should also, by their gentle- 
ness and patience towards all men, endeavour to demon- 
strate that religion is not less amiable than it is essential 
and excellent ; and yet I apprehend it necessary that our 
minds be so fortified — and by what more likely means than 
a willingness to suffer — as sometimes in the ability re- 
ceived to contend for the faith, and against that which 
opposes it, in words which neither mans wisdom nor 
inclination teaches. 



11 



No. 6. To Elizabeth Storr. 

1808, 11 mo. 14. — The thought of its being possible 
that I still may retain an interest in the minds of such as, 
taught by their own trials, can sympathize in mine, sheds 
at seasons a cheering ray through the gloom which fre- 
quently hangs over my drooping, though I hope I need 
not say, disconsolate soul. I have nothing to boast of — 
quite the reverse ; nor does it, I think, proceed from an 
affectation of humility, when I express a belief, founded 
upon a calm and dispassionate retrospect of my life, that 
few have so much cause for abasement as myself. And 
yet it hath pleased Him, whose will I believe is not more 
his own glory than our happiness, to deal marvellously 
and mercifully with me ; and though, in the course of my 
pilgrimage, the rod has been often stretched over me, yet 
the staff has also in times of extremity been graciously 
afforded ; so that I may say, Hitherto have I been helped, 
or I must have fallen. And though I have been dealt 
with in a manner which has made me almost like a wonder 
to myself, yet at the same time it has been in a manner 
which I think warrants me to encourage other poor wan- 
derers through this vale of tears to trust in the Lord. 
For seeing his ways are higher than our ways, and his 
thoughts than our thoughts, it is frequently by means at 
a time unlooked for, that help is afforded to those who 
truly trust in Him. 



12 



No. 7- To Joseph Gurney. 

1809, 3 mo. 18. — Having since I wrote last, in com- 
pany with a few other friends, been engaged in visiting 
the families of Friends in our monthly meeting, I thought 
I was just free to tell thee that we got through bet- 
ter than I believe any of us had anticipated, for we had 
viewed this service at a distance in rather a formidable 
light. I am in no boasting disposition, but I would add, 
that as we went along, an affectionate desire for the wel- 
fare of our friends accompanied us from house to house, 
which seemed to be rather productive of an uniting than a 
scattering influence, which leads me to hope that it was a 
degree of our Heavenly Father's love, shed abroad in our 
hearts, towards our brethren. Indeed I believe his pater- 
nal arm is at the present day stretched out to the gather- 
ing of us as a people nearer to Himself and to one another. 

Whilst writing on this subject, and viewing those infirmi- 
ties and imperfections which perhaps not only myself, but 
many of my dear fellow- professors have to deplore, I am ready 
to utter the petition, " Lord, enter not into judgment with 
thy servants ; for in thy sight shall no flesh be justified." 
Yet I am not dismayed by this awful consideration, my 
past experience (and as it is one neither calculated to ex- 
cite nor nourish vanity, I perhaps may be allowed to men- 
tion it,) of the Divine long-suffering is such ; and so firm is 
my belief, that if we will^ we may yet be gathered, that 
notwithstanding all opposition from within and without, 
both which I know to be powerful, my spirit is mercifully 
permitted to repose in " penitential peace and cheerful 
hope." 



13 



No. 8. To Richard Cockin. 

1809, 3 mo. 30.— Thy kind letter of the 19th, and the 
expressions of sympathy and friendship which it contained, 
were not only truly acceptable, but also strengthening to 
my mind. For though I hope I am desirous of preser- 
vation from a discontented and murmuring disposition, 
I am nevertheless often in so poor and reduced a state as 
to seem in need of every help from every quarter, I was 
pretty much in this situation when thy lines dropped in, 
I trust seasonably, to my consolation and relief. It is in- 
deed, amongst many others, a great favour to the young tra- 
veller, (for such, though I have been long feebly strug- 
gling I cannot but consider myself,) that there are in 
the church those whom experience can qualify to com- 
municate a word in season to him who scarcely knows 
which way to direct his feet. Believing thee to be one of 
those fathers, to thee I may confidentially say that such is 
not unfrequ entry the case with me ; and though, when I 
look at the gracious dealings, and particularly the forbear- 
ance and long- suffering of our Heavenly Father towards 
me, I am ready to say, " What can be done that has not 
been done for me ? Surely goodness and mercy, infinite 
as they are, must have been almost exhausted, and the 
hand of divine justice suspended and withheld in a very 
remarkable manner from punishing the sins and follies of 
my youth." Yet, on the other hand, upon considering my 
infirmities, both of flesh and spirit, with the malevolent 
and unremitting endeavours of him who, from very early 
life, has sought my destruction, hunting me even through 
the retreats of solitude, like a partridge upon the moun- 
tains ; — when I take this view I am ready to tremble, 



14 



and really to fear that one day or other I shall certainly 
fall by the violent and deceitful hand of my soul's enemy. 
However, as I think I am convinced by something more 
than theory, that this will do no good, and that if difficul- 
ties are not encountered they cannot be overcome ; I 
therefore endeavour to [[maintain] the warfare, and some- 
times am favoured with a hope, that, through the as- 
sistance of Him who, though He may at seasons suffer us 
to be hard put to it, still beholds us with an eye of pity 
and love, I shall ultimately be made victorious ; though 
so sharp has this conflict often been, as to cause many a 
silent tear to drop as upon the bosom of the earth, and 
many a groan unutterable to escape from my oppressed 
heart, and mix with the passing wind. But secret as 
these have been, and unknown to mortals, they are not, I 
trust, unnoticed by Him before whom a book of remem- 
brance is written of all the exercises of those who are en- 
deavouring to follow Him through many tribulations, and 
who, having Himself been tried like as we are, is touched 
with a feeling of our infirmities, and knows how to sue- 
cour and sustain, even in the hour of peril and dismay, 
those who are tried and tempted. 

I hope thou wilt not understand anything I have said 
as the [language] of complaint, from which, under all my 
difficulties, I have been mercifully preserved ; never hav- 
ing Qdared] to say to Him, who hath repeatedly smitten, 
' What doest thou ? ' and even whilst writing this my 
spirit is contrited and prostrated under his humbling 
£hand, and willing] there to remain, however mortifying 
and crucifying to all that is human in me. 0 my dear 
friend, pray for me, that in this I may continue firm, and 
that my faith and patience may not fail. 



15 



No. 9. To Joseph Gurney. 

1809. 4 mo. 21. — There was one of my speeches, when 
last at your quarterly meeting, and that perhaps one of 
the best, with which I am at the present hour particularly 
disposed to find fault. My observations on the deficiency 
of attending meetings, as remarked in some of the an- 
swers, were not, as to the manner ', satisfactory to me ; 
though I am not even now aware that my expressions 
wanted changing, as I think they only went to this 
point — that a neglect in attending religious meetings 
proceeded chiefly from a want of sufficient love and fear of 
the Supreme Being. I thought, after sitting down, and 
continue to think, whenever it revolves in my mind, that 
on this occasion my manner had something in it, which, 
though more the effect of inattention than design, was too 
assuming ; and that my voice was not enough modulated 
by the gentleness with which our endeavours to persuade 
one another, concerning the things of righteousness and 
peace, ought to be expressed ; and perhaps, if I had been 
sufficiently attentive to the intimation of that wisdom which 
is pure and full of love, I might have had to make this hu- 
miliating acknowledgment before the breaking up of the 
meeting. I am sorry for this omission, if it was one ; and 
I think thankful for the sense given me of my fault. 

Is it not said there is an acquired taste naturally, and 
that we may by habit come to relish what has formerly 
been disagreeable to us? And, if so, is it not at least 
possible that, by repeated draughts of spiritual bitters, we 
may become reconciled to them also ? I am willing to 
hope that passing through many tribulations has purchased 



16 



for me this experience ; and that not only the mercies, 
but the judgments of the Lord are at length become sweet 
to my taste, yea, sweeter than the honeycomb ; — not 
only more delectable than those unhallowed, yet fascinating 
gratifications, which in early life I partook of with too 
much avidity; but transcending also the more rational, 
yet less objectional sources of satisfaction, which, even in 
riper years, we are very apt, without great care, too much 
to indulge in. 

No. 10. To Joseph Guiiney. 

1809, 7 W2o. 16. — Thou art right in supposing me a 
man of a fearful heart, which, to my own mind, as it is 
seldom any difficulty to compromise with self, I can ac- 
count for many ways ; and probably a few, at least, of 
those various causes, both physical and religious, may ap- 
pear so obvious to thee as to render any further description 
of them superfluous. To speak, therefore, only generally — 
are not hope and fear those passions which, in proper exer- 
cise, tend most of all others to keep us in equilibrium ? 
and from too great a preponderance of either of them, do 
not some of our spiritual dangers arise ? In ascending the 
towering heights of presumption and self-confidence, do 
not our minds acquire too firm and rigid a tone ? and when 
we sink below measure into imperceptible depression, do 
we not then, like the lyre unstrung, become incapable of 
giving forth a sound, either instructive or harmonious ? 
Of the latter thou hast discovered in thy friend, though 
not new to himself, a striking illustration ; and almost the 
only present comfort he is able to take, under the discou- 
ragement which his example affords, is in the hope that 



17 



the Christian traveller s fears, even when they verge to an 
extreme, have sometimes a good foundation; love and 
gratitude to his heavenly Benefactor, creating a reluctance 
to offend on the one hand, and a deep sense of the lia- 
bility thereto, to which the corruptions and infirmities of 
his nature continually expose him, on the other ; and see- 
ing that adequate help is afforded to the watchful, I do 
not mean to advance this as a sufficient excuse for an 
erratic course ; rather would I excite us, when, under the 
influence of our fears — (from which I do not think thou 
art entirely free) — we see ourselves in danger either to 
loiter or stray, to endeavour, with as little confusion or 
emotion as possible, to regain the way cast up, and pa- 
tiently walk therein, with renewed confidence in that 
goodness, which is too vast for finite comprehension, and 
which, perhaps, is best understood and explained by its 
own precious influences, those influences that at seasons 
are so mercifully vouchsafed, even to the w T eak and erring 
mind. 

I particularly notice what thou sayest in thy last, respect- 
ing thy own dismay at things moving so heavily along 
among you. I am not surprised at it, neither am I 
equally concerned for thy feelings, as for the cause ;— be- 
lieving that, although our Divine Master does not over- 
load the children in his family — the young disciples — yet, 
consistent with his wisdom, he adds to their burdens as 
strength increases. Viewing thy exercises in this light, I 
.draw the encouraging inference, that thy capacity for bur- 
den-bearing is increasing, and that thy eyes are gradually 
opening to objects which might have been too strong and 
too powerful for a more youthful vision. 



18 



No. 11. To Joseph Gurney. 

1809, 10 mo. 28. — As to hope, even that of the hypo- 
crite, I do not know that I need accuse myself, seeing I 
generally find it so difficult to keep hope of any sort alive 
in my breast. Indeed to thee I may say, in our recipro- 
cal freedom, that one of my sorest conflicts is, and has 
been much of my life, with reiterated temptations, to cast 
it quite away. And I find, as perhaps thou mayst have 
also found, that by looking too much outward, either into 
the general state of the world, at the desolations in our 
Society, or upon the inexplicable nature of our own indi- 
vidual trials, these temptations acquire, at seasons, an al- 
most invincible strength ; so that, by a choice of difficul- 
ties of the most aw T ful kind, we are compelled to adopt the 
apostle's practice, to avert our eyes from these discou- 
raging prospects, and fix them upon things which are 
unseen and eternal — upon that power and wisdom which 
are from above, and which only can deliver us from temp- 
tation. Yes, my dear friend, though an admirer of the 
noble faculty of human reason, and, like minds of a simi- 
lar cast, betrayed, as I often have been, by this admira- 
tion, into unprofitable theories ; yet I think few have 
more painfully experienced its utter incompetence to guide 
us safely through this state of deep probation, or to pre- 
serve us in a situation of divine acceptance. I have often, 
very often, been brought down, as from the tree of know- 
ledge, and the mountain of speculation, and reduced to ex- 
tremity, wherein, as with the weakness of a little child, 
and the simplicity of a fool, I have, partly in broken ex- 
pression, but more frequently in that language which can- 



19 



not be uttered, begged for preservation ; — and that the 
Lord would not forsake me in iny passage through this 
world, which, amidst all that beauty my heart has so 
much admired and enjoyed, has yet, in the course of its 
vicissitudes, often assumed in my view the form of a waste, 
howling wilderness. Somewhat after this manner, both 
for myself and my dear friends, wherever scattered out- 
wardly or however captivated spiritually, I was, after a 
night partly spent in much exercise, enabled yesterday 
morning to supplicate with tears. This I esteemed a 
great favour, as not being at my own command, nor at all 
congenial to the natural hardness, or, if thou please, unbe- 
lief of my heart. 

I observe, with concern, that the conflicts of have 

terminated in a conclusion to leave the Society. "What- 
ever they may think, I do not believe they will find a 
better, though perhaps, to the natural part, an easier 
way. This conclusion is not, I think, either the result of 
prejudice or education, but (with such abilities as I pos- 
sess) of a careful investigation of the subject, with a strong 
natural propensity towards greater liberty than consistency 
with our profession allows. For the sake of a way less 
narrow, and perhaps partly aware and ashamed of my 
own deviations, than which nothing exposes us more to con- 
tempt, I have in early life wished I had not been born in 
the Society. In the folly and exultation of my inexpe- 
rienced mind, I have said, I could not see the necessity of 
carrying a badge of Quakerism about me. And yet, 
after all this, I have been induced, from conviction, to 
submit to part with things which I once highly valued, 
and to take up others which I equally despised. And 
though I am willing to grant that our inconsistencies may 



have been stumbling-blocks ; yet I cannot believe that 
our principles, with all the restraints that they impose, 
can ever become so in any other view than that wherein 
Christ crucified was to the Jews a stumbling-block and 
to the Greeks foolishness. 

I also believe that those peculiar testimonies, as we 
generally call them, which distinguish us from other re- 
ligious professions, stand upon an immutable foundation ; 
being not only consonant with the doctrines of the Gos- 
pel, and with the rules of the purest morality, but with 
the deepest researches also, and the most sublime and pro- 
found philosophy, although at the latter observation I am 
aware that the world would smile. I will venture, however, 
to ask it, whether silent worship, for which we are perhaps 
as much distinguished and derided as for any peculiarity 
we possess, — I would ask the world whether this strange 
thing will not bear the trial I have proposed. If, there- 
fore, I were to address these wanderers from our fold, it per- 
haps would be in the expostulatory language of our Lord, 
when many were departing from Him, " "Will ye also go 
away?" reminding them also of Peter's answer, " To 
whom shall we go ? " and, without invidious comparison, 
when all things are fairly taken into account, not forget- 
ting even our desolations, I think we may say on the pre- 
sent occasion, " To whom indeed shall we go ?" I trust I 
can unite with thee in desire that the Truth might arise 
into dominion, in its own dignified authority ; but we 
must be willing to wade through low and suffering times, 
in patience endeavouring to possess our souls, and thank- 
ful if our own lives are but mercifully given us for a prey. 



21 



No. 12. To Joseph Gurney. 

1809, 12 mo. 16. — Shouldst thou ever have reason to 
suppose that I am indeed employed in any service by the 
great Head of the church, it is because He is still gra- 
ciously pleased to raise up monuments of his mercy, and 
witnesses of his power in every age ; and that He sometimes 
takes these as from among the stones of the street ; because 
his dear Son came into the world to save sinners, of 
whom, though in nothing else, I venture to class myself 
with Paul the apostle ; and further, because in the depth 
of his unsearchable wisdom He chooses weak things and 
things that are not — nay, may it not be said, things worse 
than nothing ? for such I cannot but consider a sinful free 
agent. Yet by these we are warranted in believing the 
Omnipotent sometimes condescends to oppose the gigantic, 
though often erring wisdom of this world. And if ever 
thy poor unworthy friend should have part or lot in the 
important business of the Gospel entrusted to him, this is 
his character, and this is his pedigree, just as it stands un- 
veiled in his own sight, at which, though somewhat per- 
plexed, he does not despair. 

The twofold effect which he hopes this finished but de- 
formed exhibition and exposure of himself will produce 
upon thy mind is, first, to make thee careful never to view 
him in any other light, and that thou also fail not, as occa- 
sions may offer and appear to require it, to remind him of 
his original — the rock from which he has really been hewn, 
and the pit from whence he has indeed been dio-o-ed. 



22 



No. 13. To Joseph Gurney. 

1810, 1 mo. 5. — In following the late draft of love to 
my Norfolk friends, a hope somewhat cheering attends me, 
that my views were disinterested ; but what chiefly tends 
to console my lonely hours is the tender dealing of our 
Heavenly Father, who always, I believe, viewing the 
feeblest exertions of his children when directed to his 
honour, with compassionate regard, has been pleased for 
the most part since I left Norwich to withhold the con- 
demnation — for which, as I rode quietly on my way home- 
wards, whilst the tear of gratitude was at times ready to 
fall, the melody of the heart ascended to Him, whose holy, 
glorious, and fearful name stands, and I hope ever will 
stand, exalted in my view above all blessing and praise. 

I think thou bepinnest from one cause or other to 
know me too well to suppose that my original tempera- 
ment consists of tender and weeping materials, and will 
therefore perhaps, as I also do, ascribe every symptom of re- 
ligious sensibility to the purifying operations of the fire 
and the hammer. Canst thou not, my dear friend, rejoice 
with me in the hope, that after many painful and perilous 
wanderings, I have at length found Him of whom Moses in 
the law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth ; 
and that, in the reduction and humiliation of nature, it is 
by his grace that I am what I am ? After these observa- 
tions thou perhaps mayst not find it difficult to believe that 
my journey home, though long and lonesome, did not feel 
proportionately tedious. 



23 



No. 14. To Elizabeth Storr. 

1810, 1 mo. 23. — I trust our reciprocal regard, which 
has borne the trial of time and many changeful events, will 
not now, when life is verging towards its decline, forsake 
us ; but (should such make a part of the future felicity of 
the righteous, and we be happily numbered among them) 
I would rather hope that this mutual esteem may accom- 
pany us into regions celestial, where, with many a dear 
friend gone before us, we may unite in praising that great 
and worthy name, which has preserved through many tri- 
bulations and temptations, to his heavenly kingdom ; for 
it is through these, if admitted at all, that we must obtain 
an entrance. 

Wherefore may we, my dear friend, not looking too 
much at those we have already passed through " as things 
which are behind," rather endeavour after a pressing forward 
" toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God 
in Christ Jesus." In this pursuit, may we with patience 
and resignation meet every event which may yet remain as 
a constituent portion of the full measure of our affections. 

My mind has dwelt often in solitude ; and yet to this 
solitude, though naturally fond of society, I am become 
much more reconciled than some might suppose. Indeed, 
the solemnity of my introduction into deep mental retire- 
ment, and the repetition of strokes over which I had no 
control, seem, in a language at once dignified and awful, 
to have proclaimed acquiescence throughout every faculty 
of the mind. But though thus forbidden to complain, I am 
still left to feel ; to my severest feelings I endeavour to op- 
pose a consideration of the many favours yet left me; 



24 



among which I think none stands more exalted in my 
view, than the lengthened time afforded me as an oppor- 
tunity for bewailing the follies and errors of my youth, and 
for endeavouring to work out, though at seasons attended 
with many fears, the most important business of the sours 
salvation. 

Xo. 15. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1810, 7 mo. 21. — As in religious communications, whe- 
ther on paper or otherwise, I am at seasons made very 
solicitous that my speech or my writing may not be with 
enticing words of man s wisdom, and that I may know 
nothing in this way but Christ Jesus and Him crucified ; 
so I am also desirous, though almost despairing the attain- 
ment, that in the ordinary transactions of life, in my friend- 
ships, my business, and my unavoidable intercourse with 
the world, I may so abide under the power of this cross, 
that every thought, word, and deed may be to the glory 
of Him who has borne long with me, done much for me, 
and to whom my obligations may, without exaggeration, be 
said to be infinite. With this glorious mark for the prize of 
our high calling before me, I am often ready to groan under 
a feeling of my infirmities, but am at seasons a little supported 
by the consideration, that though we have no sufficiency of 
ourselves to think anything as of ourselves, yet we have 
an omnipotent and all-sufficient Helper. May we by 
faithfulness, obedience, and cleaving close to Him be 
made full partakers both of the joys and benefits of his 
salvation and redeeming love. 



25 



No. 16. To Joseph Gurney. 

1810, 9 mo. 10. — I might indeed, if not uncommonly 
dull, derive much instruction from the nature of my em- 
ployment, of which perhaps few poetical lines are more 
justly descriptive than those which say 

The farmer's life displays in every part 
A moral lesson to the sensual heart : 

and may we not with equal truth add, spiritual instruc- 
tion also to the well-disposed and attentive mind ? The 
husbandman, whilst exposed to the vicissitudes of the 
weather and the changes of the seasons, deeply interested 
also as he is in them, must have the fairest opportunity for 
making observation upon their effects. The lilies arrayed 
in simple yet elegant loveliness, and the ravens fed by the 
same providential hand, are familiar objects to his sight. 
And if I may once more boast, I do not remember a time 
when I have seemed to myself more disposed to be in- 
structed by what we commonly call the operations of na- 
ture, than in the present very changeful summer, in which 
perhaps the feelings of the community at large have ex- 
perienced as much fluctuation as we ever remember from the 
same causes. The late auspicious appearance for getting 
in the harvest has been particularly striking, being, if we 
may so speak, ushered in by a day as likely to create de- 
spondency in the farmer s mind as any I ever knew, 
What sentiments of gratitude and of confidence ought such 
a circumstance to inspire, teaching us in everything to 
give thanks ; and to believe, that though wintry seasons 
are in wisdom ordained, and storms permitted to interrupt 

c 



26 



even the tranquillity of summer s cheerful hours, yet these 
are but for an appointed time, and for a determinate pur- 
pose ! The sun again breaks forth with undiminished 
splendour ; the vegetable kingdom again expands with re- 
newed beauty to his enlivening beams ; the voice of the 
turtle and the singing of the birds are again heard in our 
land. May we then, under the most unfavourable ap- 
pearances, learn to trust, and not be afraid with slavish and 
unprofitable fear. 

Thy observations upon that sort of anxiety from which 
I often suffer, have induced me in my own way to attempt 
something like its analysis ; by which I think I have 
already discovered a considerable portion of it to originate 
in those selfish regards, as to sufferings and enjoyments, 
which are incompatible with entire resignation to the 
divine will. Though I am willing, at the same time, to 
hope that another part of it may proceed from that fear 
which tends to keep the heart clean, and from a necessarv 
jealousy over our naturally corrupt and deceitful hearts. 

I apprehend we shall both acknowledge that we are at 
times rewarded beyond what we could ask or think ; and 
still more beyond what we should presume to say we have 
deserved. This reward I believe thou wilt not regret to 
be informed was, as I apprehend, mercifully vouchsafed to 
me after we parted, in crossing "dreary Marshland" towards 
my own solitary habitation ; though I cannot tell where- 
fore, except for being willing, I hope, to enter into bro- 
therly sympathy with the few friends at Lynn ; and, having 
known the heart of a wanderer, to pity the wanderers 
there. 

On riding along, I was permitted not only to behold, 
but I trust in some measure to appreciate the value of a 



27 



privilege, which, judging by my own experience, I should 
conclude to be rare, that of being enabled not only to offer 
sacrifice in the secret and solemn sanctuary of the heart ; 
but also as inhabitants of the material world, to worship the 
Creator of all things in the august temple of the universe, 
when divested of all narrow and selfish considerations we 
feel so forcibly our intimate union and connexion with all 
the workmanship of the Divine hand, that without reluc- 
tance we can say to corruption, " Thou art my father, and 
to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister." In fine, 
when we so feelingly fraternize with universal nature, that 
towards existence generally our love seems unlimited as 
surrounding space ; but towards man in particular our 
charity is as expansive and exalted, as the magnificent 
canopy of the overarching heavens. 



No. 17. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 

1811, 1 mo. 9. — -To pain my breast was no stranger 
in a journey lately taken, on beholding the dereliction of 
many from the good old way wherein our fathers walked 
and praised the Lord : whilst I at once pity and mourn 
over the subjects of this departure, I cannot help craving 
j earnestly that our Society might become as it were more 
I consolidated into one body, not only by profession but by 
practice — might acknowledge but one God, and his name 
One, and might act upon the full persuasion, that there is 
! indeed but one Lord, one faith, and one baptism which can 
^ save, even the baptism or washing of regeneration, and re- 
newing of the Holy Ghost. 



28 



No. 18. To Joseph Gurney Bevan. 

i 

1811, 3 mo. 17. — Whether to the effect of religious fellow- 
ship, to the sympathy of minds, which, though differently j 1 
situated and circumstanced, may yet possibly possess some | 
affinity of temperament, or to the social interest of a cotem- 
porary mariner, not always indeed in sight, but traversing 
the ocean of time in the same direction, and bound to the 
same port ; — to which of these, or whether to them all 
combined, I am at a loss to ascribe the inclination I feel 
to address thee in brotherly and affectionate freedom. 

Ever since my knowledge of thee, for I can scarcely call 
it an acquaintance, I have felt towards thee a sincere re- 
gard, founded upon qualities which appeared to me to 
merit esteem. As the love of God in Christ Jesus has, I 
trust, been gradually magnified in my view, and love to 
the brethren consequently increased, this esteem has, not 
only for thee, but for all those who I have reason to suppose ; 
are engaged in the cause of truth and righteousness, refined, 1 
as it w T ere, into a kinder affection and solicitude ; so that, 
as I view some of these, by an increase of dedication and 
humility, preparing for immortality, their outward man at 
the same time tending to decay, I am at times affected by 
the anticipation of those feelings, which I apprehend will 
be mine, should it be my lot to survive them. In a silent 
and sleepless hour, the remembrance of you and the state of 
your health was lately brought before me, in the consider- 
ation whereof, desires arose that, as you approached the 
awful valley, your spirits might be favoured with adequate 
support, that they might be safely conducted through it, 
and received on its further confines by the welcome of 



29 

Him who has, I believe, been long the beloved of your 
souls, the chiefest of ten thousand in your view. 

Though we have long personally known each other, yet 
as thou art probably but little acquainted with my mental 
history, and mayst therefore be ready to consider some of 
the foregoing expressions to be too strong or highly co- 
i loured, I am free to say, that, if a capacity to feel for 
others be any quality of mine, I have received it not so 
much by words as by things, and this in the house of 
mourning — my heart, naturally obdurate and unbelieving, 
having been brought to its present state of faith and love, 
whatever this may be, by repeated baptisms in the trou- 
bled yet healing waters of affliction. From one of these 
I am scarcely now emerging, having but within a few 
days returned home from watching the progress of a dis- 
order, which conducted my eldest daughter, about fifteen, 
to the silent grave. Though I tenderly loved her, yet I 
am probably more affected by a sense of loss, from the 
disappointed hope which this loss has occasioned ; having 
indulged the fond hope, that this dear girl, who had 
finished her education, and under the care of valuable re- 
lations was receiving domestic instruction, might in a few 
years have succeeded her late mother as the female head 
of my family, the pleasant companion of her elder brother, 
the instructress of my younger children, and (where, alas ! 
does not hope lead us ! ) the solace of my declining days, 
for all which she held out very promising expectations. 
So that thou wilt not, I think, be surprised to hear me 
say that nature feels much on this occasion ; but blessed 
be the Lord, who does not forsake, but enables me to bend 
under it, both by affording me the verv consoling belief, 
that the dear departed child is entered into rest, and by 



30 



superadding the tender sympathy of several dear and af- 
fectionate friends, and, may I add ? by tendering my spirit 
before Him. 

Apprehending that even to the pilgrim who is provided 
in the most ample manner for his journey a cup of water 
may sometimes be palatable, and that this simple draught 
may, perhaps, never be more grateful than from the hand 
which has not more to give ; — thus recommended, I ven- 
ture to hope that the present little effusion of love may 
not prove wholly unacceptable, should it only present to 
thy view one more of thy hitherto secretly sympathizing 
and affectionate friends. 

No. 19. To Joseph Gurney. 

1811, 3 mo. 23. — The expression of thine and thy wife's 
sympathy, which, with a similar offering from another 
hand, met me at Holbeach on my return from the burial 
of my dear daughter Mary, were, I have thought, equally 
kind and seasonable in contributing to counteract a depres- 
sion which, notwithstanding all my endeavours after re- 
signation, I find it difficult properly to bear up against. 

Former experience has convinced me that, though we 
may have to travel over dreary ground, we must not think 
of taking up a rest here, indeed that no rest can be found 
upon it, but more probably a total discomfiture and over- 
throw both of faith and practice, and I am not even yet 
willing to die a death so. inglorious; for the Christian 
warfare, erroneous as the general notion is concerning it, 
appears to me both noble and dignified. Thus thinking, 
I have fled from despondency to resources ; and whilst I 
seize with eager gratitude the proffered hand of friendship, 



31 



I search the Scriptures, and endeavour to bow my soul 
before Him, who is not only described therein as " walk- 
ing in darkness," but as the succour of the afflicted. I trust 
these endeavours have not been entirely fruitless, as I find 
myself enabled to lift up my head in hope that all may 
still work together for my good, to which I am further 
encouraged by the apprehension that some important truths 
have been in the course of the present dispensation, more 
deeply than ever impressed upon my mind. 

No. 20. To Joseph Gurney. 

1811, 4 mo. 17-- — It appears tome a good sign when we 
can relish scenes of affliction, and when we find the atten- 
tion of our minds turning from the dazzling objects, and 
slippery ways of gaiety and greatness, and gently inclining — 
(for He whose tender mercies are over all his works does 
not break that which is willing to bend), — I therefore say 
gently inclining, as I have somewhere seen it agreeably 
expressed, 

<c To bend to sorrow's path, for that alone 

Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown." 

This, though a true, appears a strange doctrine, not only 
to the votaries of pleasure, but to those also who are at 
ease in their possessions, and have nothing to vex them. 
It once would have appeared strange to me ; and though 
the avidity with which, in my most ignorant and unbe- 
lieving days, I pursued through a variety of its fleeting 
forms, transitory and unsubstantial enjoyments ; though 
this blind eagerness received an early and a severe check, 
yet I have even in the cool of the day painfully to 



32 



acknowledge my journeying from the land of bondage to 
have been by tardy and devious steps, and my progress 
towards a better country to have been, to be, attended 
with many, I fear voluntary interruptions ; and after all 
that I have seen, heard, and felt, I find it to be still a 
trial, and at times no small one, to keep things below in 
their proper places, to use this world as not abusing it, and 
amidst divers other instances wherein danger lies, as it 
were in ambush, not to love the dear relations and friends 
which yet remain to me, out of the divine will, or with a 
selfish and unsanctified affection. 

No. 21. To Joseph Gurney Bevan. 

1811, 12 mo, 26. — I was desirous of convincing thee 
that a retrospect of my life always affords matter enough 
for real humiliation, without the necessity of affecting an 
appearance of it ; and though nothing is more true, yet I 
stand self-condemned for adding something like an appeal 
to Omniscience for its verity,* which I believe is a practice 
so seldom, if ever necessary, that in judgment it has my 
disapprobation, and I seldom observe it in others without 
concern, believing that the sacred name, under any of the 
various forms by which it is expressed, ought never to be 
taken or used in vain ; that truth is never so lovely as 
when unadorned, or seldom more convincing than when 
resting solely upon its own evidence, and that members of 
our Society never act more, or so consistently, as when they 
speak its language with the simplicity of little children, 
whose beautiful example in this and some other particu- 
lars I often admire as worthy of imitation. 

* Alluding to a former letter. 



t 



33 



The longer I view thine and thy dear wife's present 
trials, the more I consider them as partaking of the nature 
of that food which seems not so much adapted to rearing 
and nursing the Christian character as maturing it ; and 
this character is perhaps seldom fully perfected without 
some portion of strong, and it may be unpalatable meat, 
such as an infant could neither relish nor digest, but which 
is yet found to yield nutriment to minds prepared for its 
reception. Such I hope and trust are yours, and that 
you will, through condescending and continued mercy, 
not only be kept in safety through the remaining portion of 
your time on earth, but that your disembodied spirits will, 
in the appointed season, ascend triumphantly to the happy 
realms of light and love. Yes, my dear friends, the re- 
membrance of you is attended with feelings for which, on 
my account also, I am thankful, having learned to prize as 
an especial favour that tenderness of spirit which sometimes 
accompanies the contemplation of suffering humanity ; and 
which, without wholly removing, relieves in a comfortable, 
and I have thought a profitable manner, the pain occa- 
sioned thereby, mixing a portion of sweetness in the cup 
of sorrow, humbling, but not breaking or even wounding, 
the heart ; and by this wonderful process begetting re- 
newed aspirations for our own preservation, and for that 
also of every son and daughter of affliction. 

No. 22. To — . 

1812, 2 mo. 5. — If my own heart does not very much 
deceive me, I am solicitous that nothing may ever es- 
cape me which may the most remotely tend to make 
those sad whom the Lord hath not made sad ; and I am by 



34 



no means aware of its beincr mv business to make von sor- 
rowful. On considering your relative position, both spi- 
ritual and natural, to the dear and interesting young: peo- 
ple around you. it appears to me important, and therefore 
I am desirous to hold out encouragement, not dismav. 
And this is the encouragement which I wish to impart : 
that as in the unfoldings of light and love, you may disco- 
ver necessity and receive strength, you may. thus qualified, 
endeavour to draw those amiable characters more closely 
within the garden enclosed : or. in other words, within the 
warm and maternal bosom of religious fellowship and com- 
munion, as enjoyed in the sacred pale of the church of 
Christ, And 0 that no depressing apprehension of weak- 
ness, unfitness, or any other discouraging cause may pre- 
vent you from thus attempting in simplicity and sincerity 
to do whatever your hands may find to do in the corner of 
the Lord's vineyard, where, by his providence, your lot 
has been appointed ! Here let me say. that if I fear moiv 
for you in one respect than another, it is lest a retrospective 
view of the painful circumstances to which you have been 
witnesses should operate too powerfully upon your minds. 

Such. I believe, is the unutterable love and mercy of 
our Heavenly Father, that if we cry to Him from this 
valley of humiliation and abasement. He will not turn a 
deaf ear to our lowly petition, nor cast us utterly orT: but. 
through the merits and surYerings of his dear Son. our only 
Saviour, will forgive us the past. and. if we are really willing 
to enter, will admit us even at the ninth or eleventh hour, 
as labourers into his vineyard. So that though a restora- 
tion to divine favour and regard is certainly the most im- 
portant concern of human life, it appears to me. happily 
for poor bewildered mortals, to be a simple one — to cast 



35 



our repentant souls at the footstool of infinite but unme- 
rited mercy ; to implore the knowledge of our present 
duty, taking all circumstances as they are ; and when, as 
thus sought for I believe it would be, the divine mind is 
unfolded to us, to be especially careful that faithfulness 
keep pace with knowledge. This seems to me to be the 
direct and only way to peace here, and the only sure founda- 
tion for a well-grounded hope of happiness hereafter. Ac- 
cordingly, I wish to recommend it with equal solicitude 
to my dear friends as to my own soul. 

No. 23. To Joseph and Catherine Foster.* 

1812, 3 mo. 18. — I have for some years past had at 
times to struggle with a painful complaint. This disorder 
seems at length to have settled in dullness of hearing, ac- 
companied with and perhaps partly occasioned by a confused 
and disturbing noise in the upper part of the head, which 
without much pain cuts me off in a very considerable de- 
gree both from the pleasures and the benefits of social life. 

Yet under all, how many reasons do I find for thankful- 
ness to that Being whose tender mercies are over all^ and 
whose divine superintendence extends to the numbering 
of our hairs, and to the caring for sparrows ! And for no- 
thing am I aware of being more thankful than for this 
thankfulness, a disposition not at my own command. So 
that I am enabled to receive this additional trial, — a very 
gentle one indeed when compared with some I have had 
to pass through, but of none would I complain, — not only 
with a small degree of patience, but of hope — a hope that as 
it is entirely out of my own control, it may not only be found 
convenient for me, but a portion of my present daily bread. 
* Of Oustwick, in Yorkshire. 



36 



No. 24. To Joseph Gurney. 

1812, 5 mo. 8. — I much regret there ever having ex- 
isted such an idolatrous monster as the mythology of the 
ancients, and decidedly disapprove anything in the conver- 
sation or writings of professing Christians that may any- 
way tend to perpetuate its remembrance. Such a prac- 
tice appears to me to expose those who are in it, as every 
other inconsistency must do, to the pity and. the blame of 
the believer on one hand, and to the arrows of the sceptic 
on the other. 

Thou seemest apprehensive of not having treated my 
" plaint" with sufficient respect. Banish these fears, I 
entreat thee : kindness is perhaps as much as I can bear ; 
and anything further might only keep me whining — a 
practice, of which, often as I fall into it, I am sometimes 
ashamed. I was made so rather oddly the other day by 
picking up a book of Rachel's, where it was recorded of 
Prince Le Boo, that in his last illness he only complained 
to his physicians for relief, not to his friends for pity. The 
recollection of my letters to thee, the last especially, imme- 
diately occurred to me, attended with reflections which 
have in part operated as a secondary cause for not resum- 
ing my pen. For such is the nature of human pride, at 
least in one heart, that though it has received manv a 
deadly wound, it still is found to live, and like the repeat- 
edly lacerated meadow, shoots up again and again, whenever 
the weather is favourable. So that he of whom I speak, 
though often brought to confess his own nothingness, feels 
also at other times a freshly budding desire to be some- 
thing — something more like a man, according to the 
notions of that specious but erring school, whose maxims 



37 



he once so much admired. How far this folly might carry 
me may be difficult to say, did not the Physician of value, 
who has graciously offered himself in the most dan- 
gerous paroxysms of my feverish life, renewedly interpose 
to cure me of this manly conceit — a conceit unworthy of 
the babe in Christ. My cure, however, in such hands is 
easily effected : it is but commanding " the wind" to blow 
briskly; then who so ready to cry, "Lord, save, or I 
perish who so willing to lean upon a brother, even whilst 
the petition secretly ascends from my agitated breast ? 
As I never was sensible of such a decree of tenderness 

Si 

for ministers in our Society as since, for the sake of peace, 
I have ventured to uncover my head in meetings, so my 
sympathy for the widowed of either sex, and their fatherless 
or motherless children, has much increased since being 
made an experimental witness of their situation : for these 
I ever hope to heave a sigh, however personally unknown 
to me. Consequently, I did not read unmoved thy affect- 
ing account of the recent death of one of the heads of the 
Kerrick family. To the survivors, should opportunity 
offer and thou think it would be acceptable, please to 
present the expression of a stranger s fellow-feeling and 
friendly regard. May Israel's Immanuel be found to be 
their Husband and Father. This I cannot doubt will be 
their happy experience as they are concerned to seek to 
Him for such protection. 

I suppose thou wilt, after making such kind inquiry, 
expect me to say something of my health, which I think 
upon the whole is rather better, though I still continue 
very dull of hearing. At our Quarterly Meeting, which I 
managed to attend, I could scarcely hear anything, but 
was encouraged in believing that nothing suffered from my 



38 



being set aside. This, with observing as I left Lincoln 
how many people were thronging to the market, led me to 
consider the little importance I was of to the world, either 
temporally or spiritually. This was a lesson which to 
this hour I think it might be worth while going to Lin- 
coln to receive, as it placed first person singular upon a 
low and quiet seat, which at times he has much enjoyed 
since, and hopes often to enjoy it hereafter. 

No. 25. To Elizabeth Storr. 

1812, 8 mo. 30. — The kind attentions and opinions of 
my friends sometimes humble me; for though I think 
I behold in the practice of Christianity a beautiful and 
inestimable object to aim at, and am at times concerned to 
recommend the glorious attainment of it to others, yet in 
pressing after it my own conflicts are such, that I can 
pretty often feelingly apply to myself this line of one of 
our admired poets— 

"For me, scarce hoping to obtain that rest." 

Is it not strange, that after all I have in mercy suffered, 
there should yet be in me the least inclination to deviate 
from the paths of holiness and peace, or to linger in the 
w r ay of manifested duty ? In spite of self-love this is 
surprising, and must surely rank among the most incontest- 
able proofs of a fallen nature, and of the consequent need 
I have of a compassionate and powerful Redeemer. These 
considerations are humbling to the natural mind ; but let 
us not faint, though I am ready to think that not only 
myself, but many others cannot dwell much too low to be 
just above despair. This might appear almost to some a 



39 



frightful sentiment, but it will not, I believe, much alarm 
thee ; for it may probably form a part of thy experience, 
that those who know the most of their Creator and them- 
selves, are by this knowledge baptized into deep humilia- 
tion : yea, such at seasons is their abasement under a view 
of the Divine mercy and forbearance on one hand, and 
their own omissions and commissions on the other, that 
with the poor publican they are not only ready to smite 
upon the breast, but are even prepared to go a little way 
with the scribe also in concluding themselves not as other 
men are. 

Here their paths divide : it was the effect of his self- 
righteousness to think himself better than others, but it is 
that of the Christian s self-knowledge to feel himself worse 
than those with whom he was acquainted, so that taking 
all things into the account, he charges himself, as the great 
Apostle did, with being the chief of sinners. But when 
brought to such a sight and sense as this, may the repent- 
ing and returning prodigal never forget that he has a 
Saviour, a Mediator, an Advocate with the Father ; and 
may he never forget tremblingly to rejoice in Him. For 
if there be a class of mankind who are more than others 
the objects of redeeming love and mercy, it might seem to 
be these sinners, the unworthiest and vilest of the human 
race. So that to my own often depressed mind I would 
say, " As thou hast received mercy, and hast tasted that 
the Lord is gracious, see that thou faint not, nor grow 
weary in well-doing." 

My hearing is restored, and with my general health 
has, since my returning from the yearly meeting, been 
pretty good. My friend C. F. has charitably supposed 
me to be established upon a foundation which the privation 



40 



of these might not materially affect. I hope this may in 
some degree be the case. My prospects are indeed much 
changed, so that when I can hope myself within the pale 
of mercy, death appears rather as a friend than an enemy. 
I feel with poor Job, that " I would not live always;''" that 
my sins and follies, with their needful corrections, have so 
embittered the present state of being, as to make it, upon 
the whole, a wearisome though an important pilgrimage. 
I am thankful, however, under all my prospects, past, 
present, and future, for a desire which attends me that 
patience may have its perfect work, and that I may wait 
in humble resignation the appointed time till my change 
come ; and not only so, but endeavour to be content and 
thankful for the many blessings, both spiritual and tempo- 
ral, which are still graciously vouchsafed to me, amongst 

7 © J 7 © 

which I remember " friendship's cordial balm." 

No. 26. To Joseph Gurney. 

1813, 1 mo. 7- — I am desirous of keeping in myself an 
eye of faith and hope (I speak with reverence,) steadily 
fixed upon that God from whose bosom Jesus descended 
to this lower world, and upon that heaven to which He 
ascended when He left it, and where, as our Advocate, He 
now sits enthroned in glory at the right hand of his 
Father, making intercession for us. So that whilst I 
unequivocally allow that no man knoweth the Father but 
the Son, and he to whom the Son will reveal Him ; that 
this revelation of the Son is in and by the Spirit ; and that 
the manifestations of this Spirit are in the heart ; yet I am 
also cheered and consoled by the intellectual prospect or 
hope which I have just been faintly attempting to describe, 



41 



though I find it difficult to express by words an idea so 
full of beatitude. 

No. 27. To Elizabeth Storr. 

1813, 1 mo. 18.— The loneliness of my situation has 
been principally occasioned by the breaking up of our 
small seminary last spring, and the consequent separation 
of our dear children. It has sometimes happened thai; I 
have been left to discover as well as I could, the advan- 
tages and disadvantages, not merely of retirement, but of 
solitude. If I were to risk one thought on the subject, it 
perhaps might be, that just enough agreeable company to 
change the latter into the former, may be one of those 
cases in which innocent enjoyment and real advantage are 
combined. It is, however, best of all to endeavour after 
contentment, to follow circumstances, and by no means to 
repine, though tremblingly alive to the succession of 
changes, and many of them afflicting ones, of which those 
who live even to our age are not unfrequently made the 
sorrowing spectators. Long accustomed, however, to 
these scenes, reconciled also in good measure to ourselves, 
through the adorable mercies of — may we not hope ? — a 
reconciled Father, with whom we have a constant and 
powerful Advocate, even the same Jesus who died for us, 
and now liveth to make intercession for us ; and that 
nothing may be wanting on the part of heaven, liveth also 
in us, to comfort the mourners ; and whilst He cheers 
their solitude, guides them on their way. (In this three- 
fold relation of Sacrifice, Advocate, and Leader, can we 
enough admire the fulness, the ample sufficiency of the 
Redeemers character? — of which this simple, but, I think, 
just view, seems as much as any other, not only to give us 



42 



an exalted idea, but to excite also a profound and reason- 
able adoration.) 

I was therefore about to say, that with such an expe- . 
rience of this world as rolling years have afforded us, and 
with that view of a better state for which we have such a 
hope set before us, shall we complain too much when that 
which is mortal dies, or when that which we know to be 
transient passeth away ? But here let me pause and recol- 
lect, that if I am preaching, it is to myself, and that I am 
addressing one who is much more likely to possess her 
soul in patience, not only under outward trial, but in that 
secret poverty of spirit which she has described, and which, 
notwithstanding her fears, I would encourage her to be- 
lieve is of the right kind. . 

No. 28. To Joseph Gurney. 

1813, 1 mo. 21. — I seem but indifferently qualified for 
entering into the important subjects of thy letter. So 
far as I can judge, thy lines are in no way deroga- 
tory to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, one God, 
blessed for ever. Just before the receipt of thine, in 
writing to a friend, my subject led me to speak of 
the amplitude and sufficiency of the redeeming plan, as 
exemplified in the three prominent relations of our Sa- 
viour's character. I mean, as a sacrifice for sin, to all who 
avail themselves thereof by faith and repentance, mani- 
fested by correspondent fruits ; as an advocate with the 
Father, for the imperfection and weakness wherewith even 
the sincere but trembling disciple endeavours to follow his 
steps ; and, finally, as an inward leader in the way of ho- 
liness and peace. This is the one only Saviour in whom 
I trust, neither expecting nor desiring another; and I 



43 



think this simple but important view of Him does not 
clash with thine, though I am aware it does not go to the 
extent of the question as it respects the unity of the divine 
nature, in which I unequivocally believe. As to its 
essence or mode, I am content to be ignorant, seeing 
it is one of those secrets which Infinite Wisdom has 
seen meet to hide from mortal ken : and does it not 
seem a greater proof of folly than of wisdom, to be 
continually straining our eyes in attempts to see that 
which we are told is invisible ? — and such are the modes of 
spiritual existences, with their connexions and operations. 
Did not Jesus mean to guard us against this vain curiosity 
when he compared the influence of his Spirit to the wind, 
which, though it might be heard and felt, could not be seen ? 

* * In respect to the mind, with thankfulness I may 
acknowledge myself pretty comfortable, not feeling much, 
if any, " condemnation and though, perhaps, a sigh or a 
tear, which in the day I endeavour to conceal, may escape 
me in the silent watches of the night, yet even these have 
lately been of a kind which I can cordially welcome. 
I have been further encouraged by the circumstance of 
clearer vision, on some points important to myself, having 
of late been graciously afforded me, enabling me, I trust, 
to make a little advance out of self, and into Him — 
(which, perhaps, is a consequence) — in whom only are 
sufficiency and peace. 

No. 29. To Joseph Gurxey. 

1813, 3 mo. 6. — Allow me to rejoice with thee in the 
hope, that our inquiries into the truths and doctrines of the 
Christian faith have resulted in an increased confirmation 
of their undeniable evidence, and an increased degree of 



44 



establishment in these simple doctrines, these sublime but 
effulgent truths. Yes, whether we turn the sceptical 
or the orthodox page, with a mind unprejudiced, and de- 
sirous of coming at a knowledge of the truth, I think con- 
viction in favour of Christianity must invariably follow. 
Though at the same time I am free to acknowledge, that 
I have scarcely been less edified by anything of a serious 
nature, than by the casuistical disquisitions of Christian 
rabbies. 

These recorded imaginations may be compared to sum- 
mer insects, which annoy and hinder rather than benefit 
the traveller ; and accordingly we find it necessary to 
defend ourselves against, not encourage them. And as we 
should doubt the sanity of that man who recorded every 
passing idea, so if these doctors could see, as I fancy may 
be seen, how much they veil instead of elucidate, or, as 
some one has better expressed it, entwine rather than en- 
shrine the object of their speculations, though in itself a 
glorious one, — could they see this, they would be more 
sparing both of comment and controversy, and in this pro- 
fitable pause might be instructed to employ their learning 
and talents (for it is granted they possess both) more to 
the peace of their own minds and the benefit of the world. 



No. 30. To Joseph Gurney. 

1813, 5 mo. 7.— Shall I tell thee that I have a little 
vocabulary of words and phrases, which I believe, as to 
the sense in which they are commonly used, want a more 
careful revision and correction than they generally appear 
to obtain ? Fate, fortune, with its various combinations, 
accident, or chance, infinite, and some others, seem to be 
often so misapplied and perverted, as in the true spirit of 



45 



heathenism and infidelity, to give an imaginary import- 
ance to shadows, and this too by the senseless and affect- 
ing exclusion of a Providence, not only from his general 
superintendence, but from those particular cases wherein 
He might rationally be recognised, and ought devoutly to 
be acknowledged. 

There is also a practice in the higher circles of social 
intercourse, with which I have a decided controversy. I 
mean that hyperbolical form of speech, which probably 
originated among the rich and the learned, and from them 
descended into the ranks of humbler life, so that now, in- 
stead of being 

ci Pleased with a feather, tickled with a straw/*' 

we hear of people being transported to ecstasy from 
no higher causes ; and should a shower prevent a morn- 
ning's walk, a slight pain or unwelcome tidings abridge 
any earthly enjoyment, they cannot stop at disappoint- 
ment or uneasiness — low and insipid expressions ; — their 
nobler spirits must take a bolder leap ; and were we to 
take them literally, we might suppose them plunged into 
the slough of despond, or thrown headlong from the rock 
of irrecoverable ruin. 

I suppose thou must meet with many such instances as 
these ; and shouldst thou ask how I come to be so know- 
ing in the manners of the great, the answer must be, that 
as the high and the low seldom come near enough to 
touch, the man of middle station standing between them 
reaches a hand to each, and keeping his eyes and ears 
open, conveys messages, or renders them any other service 
in his power ; for whatever some of them may think, none 
of these classes can subsist independently of each other. 



46 



No. 31. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1813. 8 mo. 23. — I have been generally favoured with 
health since we saw each other, which has perhaps en- 
abled roe the better to bear up under other difficulties that 
have for many weeks been my close attendants. These 
have proceeded from various causes, though none of them. 
I presume, uncommon to the poor probationer, man. during 
this his scene of trial. There are. however, two leading 
circumstances, which seem to include nearly all the rest, 
and which, from their analoo-v to those o-reat obstacles of 
a seaman's hope that keep him most aloof from his desired 
haven, I shall designate by the terms storm and stagnation. 

By these are the faith and patience of the Christian 
mariner frequently proved; and by these, if he mistake 
not, has the mind of thy poor solitary brother been much, 
of late, alternatelv exercised. But the former having 
through mercy somewhat subsided, and the latter, as I 
humbly trust, been renewedly breathed upon by that 
creative Spirit, which in the beginning is said to have 
moved upon the face of the waters, I am hereby enabled, 
in a degree of the tenderness and contrition which conflict 
is sometimes found to produce, to hope that surely some 
good, either to myself or others, may one day arise out of 
so much suffering ; — though this is a hope that, after all 
I have known of Divine goodness and mercy, I find, from 
the frailty and unworthiness of the creature, it is very dif- 
ficult at seasons to maintain, or even to lay hold of. 

On looking back, marvellous indeed do appear the mys- 
terious overturning^ of the Lord's hand, in dealing with 
his children for their instruction and profit — all, no doubt, 



47 



necessary. Surely neither the work of the soul's redemp- 
tion, nor the preparation for service, is of man, or by 
man, neither come they with outward observation. May 
I, therefore, and may all the called of the Most High, 
be more and more willing to enter into the state of fools 
and little children, that so we may in due time become 
filled with the wisdom and righteousness of Him who ever 
was and remains to be " all in all," to his truly de- 
pendent ones. 

No. 32. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1813, 9 mo. 18.— Thou seemest not to know, and almost 
to inquire, whether I am naturally more prone to mourn 
or to rejoice ; to which I am free to give this unequivocal 
answer, that there was a time in my life when, imitating 
certainly not the wisest conduct of him who was called 
the wisest king, I withheld not my heart from (scarcely) 
any joy within its reach ; but the time is now arrived 
when, for several of my latter years, I am not conscious of 
having entirely withdrawn the same heart from any sor- 
row with which a just and wise Providence has seen meet 
to visit it. Though here I must acknowledge, that my 
endeavours after an entire acquiescence in the Divine will 
have been attended with so much qualm and shrinking, as 
to make this important business, on retrospect, appear to 
myself to have been so far poorly performed, and to be yet 
very incomplete ; but I trust a disposition to press for- 
ward still remains, The following incident, though of an 
inferior cast, may somewhat illustrate my meaning, and 
show thee in a few words the way wherein I am secretly 
striving to walk. 



48 



I have happened this season to grow some wheat of a 
kind with which I had not before been acquainted. One 
of its properties seems to be, to break off just under the 
ear, and almost before it is ripe. As I prefer ripe corn, I 
had suffered one of these fields to become fully so, when 
by some turbulent weather about two weeks since, it was 
computed I lost nearly one-half. In endeavouring to 
reconcile my mind to this circumstance, which probably 
thy religion or philosophy, or both, may say ought not to 
have disquieted it, — but which, combining as it did the 
ideas of mismanagement, waste, and disappointed gain, 
could not fail to operate se # nsibly on a temperament like 
mine, — I was quickly made sensible that it would not do 
to make too much of it, even in soliloquy, and that some- 
thing must be attempted to silence these inward repinings. 
In this labour, more seA^ere than reaping, I thought myself 
helped by remembering the seaman's lot, whose life and 
whose property so often perish in the wave ; and I was 
still further assisted by recollecting the manner in which 

The son of patience heard the wreck 

Of all his fortunes, camels, oxen, flocks, 

Sons 3 daughters — all in one sad hour o'er whelmed. 

Thus renewedly fortified, though Ihad not the presump- 
tion to say, " Blow, ye winds," yet I was enabled to view the 
storm, which was of long continuance, sporting as it were 
with my agricultural credit and profit, in a disposition 
very different, I trust, from stoical apathy. "Were I to 
describe this disposition in one word, I perhaps might call it 
prostration, before a Power who maketh the clouds his 
chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind ; whom 
also I think we are told the winds and the waves obey. 



49 

This humble attitude of soul I can recommend, having 
found, on occasions of far different importance to that now 
described, the folly of resisting, and the safety of bending 
before the tempest, which may thus blow over us, not 
unperceived, but with less danger and damage. 

No. 33. To Elizabeth Stokr. 

1813, 10 mo. 23. — Among those who have been brought 
near to me, I may very safely name the family at Oust- 
wick. May they be preserved from giving place to dismay, 
as though they were out of the pale of religious fellow- 
ship, or excluded from the universal privilege of heavenly 
reo-ard. Should anv be thus tried, let them remember 
poor Hagar and her infant son, who, in a situation the 
most forlorn and abandoned, were still discovered by that 
penetrating eye which goeth to and fro in the earth, be- 
holding the evil and the good : and they were not only 
beheld, but compassionated. " The Lord heard the voice 
of the lad/' where he was, and by his angel comforted the 
disconsolate mother, giving her also information respecting 
the present care and future character of her son. Now, as 
the gracious Being who thus condescended remains un- 
changeable in his love to man, so I believe nothing can 
prevent his eye from seeing the state of poor and needy 
souls, nor will anything prevent Him from being attentive 
to their cry ; and as they are concerned to open their 
hearts to Him, and cast their whole care upon Him, 
though He may see meet to try them for a season, yet, 
in his own time, which is the best time, He, the God of 
the whole earth, will as surely deliver them as ever He 
delivered Israel formerly from Egyptian bondage ; though, 

D 



50 



as in that case, so in the case of individuals who feel 
themselves solitary and secluded, it may happen that 
difficulties present themselves which threaten great op- 
position, and which it may require the interposition 
of Divine power to remove. Yet let us but patiently 
wait, and quietly hope ; and we may sometimes have to 
observe that the Lord will work for us, even whilst we 
hold our peace, so that ultimately both the real and 
imaginary objects of our fears shall entirely disappear, like 
first preventing, and then pursuing Pharaoh and his 
people, and covering them by the waves ; — and as was 
said of them, we shall see them no more for ever. 

No. 34. To Joseph Gurney. 

1813, 11 mo. 19. — How wonderful, to the mind which 
is but moderately attentive to them, are the vicissitudes to 
which it is liable ! I do not want to attribute evervthino- 
difficult to be understood to a supernatural cause ; and I 
know many reasons are assignable for mental change ; but 
in this day of greater scepticism than superstition, per- 
haps it will not hurt us to remember that there is a Power 
which opens and shuts the heart of man at pleasure, and, in 
scriptural language, turns it as the watercourse in a field. 
And though we may not always be able to distinguish 
this operation from other causes, yet sometimes I think 
we may. And I love sometimes to indulge also, on the 
most extended scale, in a contemplation of the divine 
attribute of Omnipotence, in the exercise of those unli- 
mited and undefinable powers whereby it touches the 
most powerful and most minute springs of its own ma- 
chinery, and with equal ease produces effects correspond- 



51 



ing with the supreme will, whether in a heart, a universe, 
or a system of worlds. 

No. 35. T 0 Joseph Foster. 

1814, 1 mo. 27- — As one who is desirous of possessing 
some claim to Christian character, I am more and more 
confirmed in my objections to war, and, as a man, I think 
I may say my soul is sick with the reports almost every 
day produced upon this affecting subject. For though I 
believe that, in our present state of being, we see but a 
part of an infinitely vast and incomprehensible plan, and 
that, therefore, the question, Whence came evil, and 
why is it permitted so to ravage and deface the works of 
a Being possessed of every glorious and every amiable 
attribute ? — I say, though questions of this sort may at 
times almost involuntarily arise, and the best reply we can 
make to them may be to lay a hand upon our mouths, 
thereby acknowledging that they are too wonderful for 
us — yet, even in this case, I find no difficulty in believing 
that had sin never entered the world, and death by sin, 
war, with its unnumbered train of concomitant evils, had 
been unknown on earth ; and the admission of sin and 
death were, alas ! by man s consent. 

But whilst I admit, with the apostle, that we see but 
in part, and am willing to suppose that what I have 
premised on this subject, or indeed all that I can say on 
it, may be no more than a glance through that dark 
medium which veils more perfect knowledge from us ; 
yet on a simple recurrence to feeling, — and from the crite- 
rion of feeling let us never, my dear friend, suffer our- 
selves to be diverted by the vain and impious attempt of 

d 2 



52 



sophistry, — I say, then, upon an appeal to my heart, T 
find there a testimony against the slaughter of ma» fry his 
fellow, immutably and indelibly record, as an act 
equally repugnant to religion and reason. It opposes the 
first, by exhibiting a practical contrast to that divine pre- 
cept in which justice ^nd mercy are so happily blended, of 
doing to other© as we would they should do to us ; whilst 
to the latter it is inimical, as being an absurd outrage upon 
creation, and an insult to a Creator whose tender mercies 
are over all his works. 

And were it not that this gracious Author of our ex- 
istence, who wills not the death of a sinner, that this 
imcontroulable Power, who bridles the jaws of destruction, 
has mercifully set limits, in every age, to the overwhelm- 
ing torrent of war, there appears nothing improbable in 
the supposition, that long before this the whole human 
race might have fallen a sacrifice to that malevolent spirit, 
who, taking advantage of our corrupt and degraded nature, 
has never failed to instigate the ambitions and the cruel to 
deeds of death and darkness. In support of this sentiment, 
to show also the ascendency which evil may obtain over 
the human mind, and how far it may become assimilated 
to the nature of him who was a murderer from the beoin- 
ning, it may be sufficient to instance one of the numerous 
records of history to our purpose, that of a being in the 
shape of a man, who wished that his fellow- creatures had 
but one neck ; and why ? — not that he might strengthen, 
but separate it, 

Thou mayst be surprised at my dwelling with so much 
earnestness on this distressing subject, especially when I 
add that neither conviction nor conversion is my imme- 
diate obj ect : these important purposes having, I doubt 



53 



not, as relating to the present question, been long since 
effected in thy sensible and feeling mind. But, as thou 
hast pleasantly remarked in one of thy letters, that an 
agreement of ideas formed part of the basis of our early 
friendship, so in this more advanced stage of it, perhaps 
bringing our thoughts together, even where they correspond, 
may produce, and I hope not unprofitable, a degree of that 
animating influence which the countenance of a man is 
said to have upon his friend . At any rate, I seem as if I 
could rejoice, should this revival of brotherly intercourse 
prove a means of sharpening in each of us those weapons 
which are not carnal but spiritual, and which, if we do 
possess them, as I trust is the case, let us neither be afraid 
nor ashamed of exercising, under the direction of Him 
from whom we have received them, the Prince of Peace, 
who came on earth not to destroy men s lives, but to 
save them. 



Xo. 36. To Joseph Gurxey. 

1814, 5 mo, 6. — Whatever may be my experience, I 
still believe the only true and safe rest to consist in an 
unlimited surrender and submission to the Divine will. 
And, oh ! when my poor heart is now and then softened 
into this disposition, how precious is the experience ! Yes, 
my dear friend, though under a sense of the greatest unwor- 
thiness, I may do myself the justice to say that the expe- 
rience just alluded to is indeed prized by me above all 
price ; so that neither gold nor gems, spices nor perfumes, 
nor, could it be obtained, even all the superadded favour 
of all the princes in the universe, bear, in my present esti- 
mate of things, any comparison with that situation of mind 



54 



wherein the denial of our ownwill, and the doing- that of 
the Creator, is felt to be not more a duty than a delight. 
But do not imagine from this luxuriance of expression 
that I am constantly, or even frequently, a possessor of the 
inestimable enjoyment described. No, I neither deserve, 
nor is it possible that I could bear such a fruition long 
together, and therefore it may be that the intervals wherein 
it is vouchsafed seem 

" Like angels' visits, few and far between 
yet let the grateful tribute of thanksgiving and praise 
ascend before the throne of mercy, that such seasons are 
ever known by the inhabitants of this lower world, and 
that even in its remotest solitudes ; and thou wouldst 
find it difficult, my friend, to meet with one more secluded, 
both as to body and mind, than Gedney often is to me : — 
but peace, my heart ! the hand is blest that gives and 
takes away. 

No. 37. To Elizabeth Storr. 

1814, 7 mo* 5. — The warfare of a good soldier in the 
Christian cause, under the sacred banners of the Prince of 
Peace, is directly opposed, in my judgment, to that of the 
princes and potentates of this world, who, when the most 
successful, allow but a small pittance of earthly emolument 
or honour to those who have resigned all in their cause : 
whereas He who is called the Captain of the Christians 
salvation has promised eternal rewards to all those who 
forego temporal interest or pleasure for his sake, and an 
immortal crown of life to such as in his church militant 
continue faithful unto death. And yet how few are wil- 
ling to suffer with and for Him, when compared with the 



55 



multitudes who, at the signal of an earthly commander, 
may be led to the destruction of the body, and to a still 
more awful transition of the soul ! This is a circumstance 
which often surprises me ; and I can only find its probable 
cause in the perverseness and folly of the natural man, 
notwithstanding his self-sufficiency and boasted wisdom. 

No. 38. To Jaxe Birkbeck. 

1814, 7 mo. 25. — Allow me the situation (and I ask no 
higher) of an elder brother, who, weak as he is, would not 
willingly or wickedly depart from the law of his God ; 
and that he may not so depart, is desirous of the prayers 
of his friends, even of such of them as may be much 
his juniors ; and therefore hopes, when thou art favoured 
with access to the footstool of mercy, to be remembered 
there by thee. 

I affectionately bid thee farewell in Christ Jesus, our 
advocate with the Father, even his Father and our 
Father, who, though He dwells on high and inhabiteth 
eternity, condescends to look down from his holy habita- 
tion, and from the throne of his glory, upon the humble 
and contrite heart, even upon that — or shall I say, this 
unworthy heart ? — which, after having experienced largely 
of his mercies, has yet often to bewail with poignant com- 
punction its frailty, its inconsistency, and manifold im- 
perfections. 

No. 39. To Joseph Gtjrney. 

1814, 9 mo. 5. — Wert thou really to ask me how time 
has passed with me since we saw each other, I might per- 



56 



haps be tempted, on the first glance backward, to say, I 
can scarcely tell ; but to sketch a little, and jnst as an 
outline, — some outward stir and some inward vicissitude, 
wherein, though I might speak with David of the " mul- 
titude of my thoughts within me," I could but rarely 
adopt the more consoliug part of his sentence, " thy com- 
forts delight my soul/ 5 I mean not, however, as I may 
have told thee before — it is never my intention, whatever 
language may escape me, to complain, at least not to 
murmur. Justice, gratitude, patience, resignation, these 
sublime and amiable virtues all conspire to forbid it. 
Nothing has yet befallen me but what may happen to 
all — nothing can befall ine which I have not deserved. 
And how short is anything which I have suffered, 
though guilty, compared with the afflictions of Him 
who came into the world to " bear our transgressions," 
and " by whose stripes we are healed" ! All mur- 
muring is therefore excluded, and may it never more 
escape my pen or my lips ; but in the room thereof may I be 
allowed, though from the depths of creaturely abasement, 
to make my boast of that goodness and mercy which are, 
I believe, generally the most signally displayed in seasons 
of our greatest extremity. And were I at all inclined to 
boast now, it might perhaps be in having witnessed, 
during the time of change and poverty alluded to, the ful- 
filment of an ancient declaration, that " the Lord giveth 
power to the faint, and to them that have no might He 
increaseth strength blessed and praised be his holy 
name. 

I have lately been strolling on the confines of Norfolk 
which lie nearest me — say Downham, Lynn, Runcton, 
Narborough, and S waff ham, and to some of these places 



57 



twice within a few months. When on my last excursion, 
very lately, I heard so many pretty things said of Cromer 
and of the better sort of folks who were assembled there, 
that, admiring as I do the hollow murmur of the ocean s 
tide, and still an enthusiast in friendship, I really felt 
attracted ; but these attractions are now generally re- 
pelled, by the solemn consideration that I have already 
lived too long and too much to myself ; that I ought no 
more, from a motive of mere gratification, to go whither I 
would. I therefore, on this occasion, gave the nay to an 
imagination yet, alas ! too prone to wander, and quietly 
returned to my family and farm, where it seems to be 
my duty to fix as much as I can. 



No. 40. To Joseph Gurney. 

1815, 1 mo. 9.— To begin with a matter on which our 
views appear particularly, I had like to have said remark- 
ably, correspondent, I may tell thee that, though more 
than two months have elapsed, I have not forgotten how. 
a few days before the receipt of thine, my mind had been 
exercised on account of that mixture, " not in dissipation, 
but in zeal," to which thou hast alluded, as a thing which 
makes thee go " more heavily on thy way." This very 
mixture, even where the objects of it are in themselves not 
only commendable but good, and which in the present 
eventful crisis prevails so much, not only in our own but 
in other countries, I am persuaded with thee, paradoxical 
as it may appear, and unable as I am to delineate upon 
paper all my reasons for such a persuasion, forms at 
once a new and a great dauger, to which very many in 

d 5 



58 



our Society, and these none of the worst, stand just now 
exposed. 

Thyself having opened the door, perhaps I shall go 
even beyond thee when I acknowledge what may sound 
strange to some, that whilst I feel not only good-will 
but love towards sincere, upright, and zealous members 
of other denominations of Christians, I have not hi- 
therto found it my place to mix much either in public or 
private with them, except as they fall in my way ; but 
whilst they are congratulating themselves and each other 
on the general improvement of mankind by the institution 
of various benevolent establishments for that end — whilst, 
it may be, some of them derive further consolation, both in 
the individual part they are taking in these improvements, 
and also in the accession of number and respectability to 
their numerous and different sects amidst all this career 
of prosperity, (and far be it from me either to dispute or to 
envy it,) yet so it is, that my lot is such a very different 
one, as to occasion me, more like the sparrow or the pelican, 
to go mourning on my way, through a land where there 
seems to be no man near me, or, to use scriptural descrip- 
tion, " wherein no man dwells." 

I think myself aware that outward solitude, especially 
when combined with a certain temperament, may produce 
a physical effect upon the mind. But I also think myself 
aware that there are far other, and very sufficient causes, 
for such in our little religious community as are in any 
degree skilful in lamentation, to dwell alone, keeping- 
much, though not an entire silence ; yea, at times, to lay 
their mouths as in the dust, if so be there may be hope 
either for themselves or others. A fear has of late some- 
times powerfully assailed me, lest amidst the tide of intel- 



59 



lectual light, which I suppose by many is believed to 
have burst upon the world — may I say to thee that 
the admission of such a belief, instead of lessening, in- 
creases my anxiety for a people to whom I am not more 
by birth than by judgment attached ? — lest this people, 
taken as a body, instead of being the illuminated leader, 
not only of the dark but of the most enlightened parts of 
the earth, should be either lagging behind, intent on other 
objects, or, like the foolish virgins in the parable, whose 
lamps were gone out. 

This clue, if followed, might lead us to the alarming, 
and I think not entirely groundless apprehension, that 
though there may appear no present danger of our be- 
coming extinct by persecution, yet that we may become 
much weakened, at least, in a very different way, by the 
applause and caresses arising out of the too familiar inter- 
course even with the better part of other religious societies ; 
among whom, though doubtless acted up to by many valu- 
able individuals, yet the [[bearing of thej cross does not 
seem either to be so preached or so viewed as a crite- 
rion of Christian character as we have been taught ; and 
have not some of us a better reason than education for be- 
lieving it should be ? 

It seems now time for me to turn from this generally 
discouraging view of a people, dear I believe to each of 
us, towards one bright spot that I think is discernible in 
the prospect. Oh, that it may indeed prove like an era 
of light within our borders, and so increase that our dwell- 
ings may be in Goshen once more ! I am now alluding ta 
the convincement of their own principles, and practical 
conversion to their own profession, of here one and there 
another, on the whole not very few, that have of later time 



60 



appeared among us. With these new converts (for such I 
consider them) my mind is nearly united in sympathy and 
fellowship, desiring their prosperity and growth in the truth ; 
and especially desiring, as that on which this prosperity 
must, I believe, much depend, that they may prove faithful 
cross-bearing followers of the Lamb slain from the founda- 
tion of the world, who when on earth said, " If any man 
will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his 
cross daily, and follow me." 

No. 41. To Jane Birkbeck. 

1815, 1 mo. 16. —We are, at least I am, often under 
such a degree of mental incapacity, as not only disqualifies 
for speaking or writing to any good purpose, but even 
for thinking a good thought. So that humiliating as it 
is to human pride, and for this end perhaps it may be per- 
mitted, our own wisdom is confounded, and our understand- 
ing, of what class soever it may be, brought to nothing, 
until by this crucifying, I had almost said annihilating, 
process, self, that enemy of our own houses, becomes so 
weakened as, for a time at least, to be of no reputation : 
it Avere difficult indeed to describe how much it re- 
quires to bring some minds low, and keep them there. 

I am not afraid of discouraging thee by the picture 
I have drawn, believing that to such a mind it will appear 
not very incongruous with a probationary state, and with 
the circumstance of beings, who are not only on one hand 
prone to evil, but on the other can positively do no good 
thing without the assistance of Him, who, from the amplest 
knowledge as well as from the highest authority, made 
such a declaration, though to a race who, both then 



61 



and now, are very unwilling to admit the mortifying 
truth. 

And yet, I think, if we were to survey with proper 
attention the annals of mankind, and observe how avarice, 
ambition, and pleasure have, from the earliest ages to the 
present day, divided yet engrossed the pursuits of the 
multitude ; — or if we look into their religion, we may be- 
hold even in the better parts of it, both in Christianity on 
its broad scale, and in the small division of it which our 
Society holds, wonderful fluctuations and vicissitudes ; — or 
if we turn to what I believe is sometimes called the world 
in miniature, the human heart, here, instead of the inquirer 
being satisfied, he finds the greatest of all paradoxical 
phenomena ; so that in every part of this review it 
seems as if we might have to encounter a degree of awful 
mystery, which the understanding of man cannot satisfac- 
torily develope. 

Not many days since, my own labouring heart was re- 
lieved, when almost sinking under the pressure of business, 
still higher solicitudes for a motherless family, and, may 
I hope? some care for "the churches of Christ," — objects 
which, when combined, perhaps have at one time or other 
thrown very different characters into some perplexity ; 
under anxiety thus produced my mind was calmed by the 
unexpected presentation of this seasonable memento, " the 
time of trial is the time for trust ;" which, though it may 
contain nothing new in substance, yet being brought so op- 
portunely, and in a form of expression too which I did not 
remember to have seen, caused it to be gratefully accepted 
as a portion of my daily bread. 

I embrace the present liberty for assuring thee how much 
interest I feel in thy spiritual welfare. My hopes of thee 



62 



are that thou mayst be a valuable pattern to several pre- 
cious young plants of thy own sex under our name, who 
are rising up within the immediate sphere of thy ac- 
quaintance. 

Youth want monitors, but above all they want practical 
teachers among themselves. They are too prone to think 
that it is time enough vet to become religious ; or that if 
this be necessary, yet both the maxims and manners of their 
seniors are too austere. But when they see here one and 
there another of their equals in years, and especially if 
these are in possession of every means of self-indulgence, 
with understandings and education no way inferior to their 
own ; — when such are beheld stepping forward somewhat 
like those who in the early ages of Christianity turned out 
of the Roman legions, boldly declaring themselves its 
converts, though death looked them in the face — such a 
sight would be likely to arrest the attention even of the 
thoughtless, with this consideration — surelv it must be for a 
reality that such sacrifices are made ; it cannot be a 
chimera for which these trials are endured. 

I believe few outward helps would be of so great advan- 
tage to young Friends of the present day as that of witness- 
ing among their contemporaries an increase of decided 
characters- — of those who, dying to their own wills, and 
with a holy courage which eclipses that of outward war- 
fare, taking up their daily cross, avow by the language of 
conduct, that they are weary of the folly of inconsistency 
with their own profession, that they are still more weary 
of the anguish of a divided heart ; and that therefore, 
through divine help, they are resolved to quit the service 
of him who is an enemy to peace, and take that yoke upon 
them which, notwithstanding the mistakes about it, is 



63 



light and easy, when compared with the distractions and 
distresses of disobedience and a wounded conscience. 

No. 42, To Joseph and Jane Gurxey, 

1815, 2 mo, 21. — I feel a further encouragement to my 
present purpose of addressing you, by considering that few 
words are necessary for the expression of sympathy and 
condolence, sentiments and feelings which I am solicitous, 
with a simplicity equal to their sincerity, of imparting 
to you on the affecting occasion of your dear son Henry's 
death. 

How mingled have sometimes been my sensations 
in the recurrence of those solemn, those trying events 
which thus sever our tenderest ties, congratulating on 
one hand the liberated spirit on its escape from va- 
nity and care; and on the other, sorrowing with those 
who, still fettered by the bonds of mortality, feel their 
weight increased in proportion as they are bereft of compa- 
nions, who, either by their strength or enlivening society, 
lessened the load of life. Thus are we at seasons, strange 
as at first sight it may appear, enabled from the same 
circumstance, and almost at the same instant of time, to 
weep with those who weep, and to rejoice with those who 
do rejoice, For with joy unspeakable may we not hope 
that our dear deceased children are now triumphing in the 
presence of their Creator, whilst we are left a little longer, 
to fulfil the measure of our day's work, which, if faithfully 
performed, death shall again rejoin us (at least so nature 
loves innocently to believe) to such of our kindred and 
friends as have already been admitted within the pale of 



64 



adorable mercy, and received into the embraces of unutter- 
able love. 

Genuine sorrow seeks the shade as its natural and 
proper home, but an officious world, which the more 
attentively we observe it the more we shall be convinced 
of its mistakes, drags its votaries from the retirement to 
which providential circumstances and their best feelings 
have directed them, into the meridian glare of folly and dis- 
sipation, as a remedy for those very things which are the 
best calculated, and no doubt wisely intended, so to arrest 
the levity and correct the disorder of our hearts, as to in- 
cline them to listen to the still small voice of wisdom, and 
submit to her salutary discipline. 

Thus, however, I intend not to treat the better- instructed 
minds of my much-valued friends ; but even under their 
present trial to address them with the language of truth 
and soberness, clothed too, perhaps, in somewhat sad array. 
Yes : I am inclined to tell them that, as is often my por- 
tion, I have been of late much the son of inward affliction ; 
the causes whereof seem too complicated for me clearly to 
discover ; but as I do not discern disobedience among these 
causes, I desire not to be too inquisitive ; perhaps a sympa- 
thetic feeling with the various kinds and degrees of suffering 
humanity may be of the number. But as words are not just 
now much at my command, perhaps I cannot give you a 
better general idea of my situation than by simply men- 
tioning the kind of reading which has for some time past 
afforded me the most satisfaction : in the Scriptures, such 
parts as contain promises to the penitent, the poor, the 
blind, and above all, to those who through many beset- 
ments, tribulations, and infirmities, have endured to the 
end. Of other writings, some of the valuable letters of 



65 



sucli of my friends whose kindness now and then inclines 
them to salute a poor, absent brother, have been reperused, 
I trust, with something more than mere gratification : the 
short and promiscuous annals of old and young, male and 
female, rich and poor, exhibited in the volumes of Piety 
Promoted, have also afforded an instructive satisfaction. 

Perhaps, under a depression which I am thus attempting 
in a very indirect way to describe, few things could have 
been more likely to prevent a total extinction of hope than 
the discovery of this real change in my literary taste. For 
there has been a time when, through fulness, ignorance, 
and unbelief, such food as that just alluded to would have 
been very lightly esteemed, or possibly, for want of under- 
standing its precious hidden qualities, loathed and despised. 
But, thanks be to God, who, by the various dispensations 
of spiritual hunger and thirst, of weariness and painfulness, 
both in body and mind, hath at length made those im- 
portant truths which once would have been very unpalat- 
able, if not bitter, to become sweeter than honey or the 
honeycomb ; yea, to become like strength to my sinews, 
and as marrow to my bones. Oh ! for a suitable 
return ! 

No. 43. To Susanna Clark. 

1815, 9 mo. 5. — I trust the time may have arrived 
when the voice of disinterested and dispassionate sym- 
pathy may be no unwelcome sound ; nor may this lan- 
guage be less welcome when heard from one, who once 
hard of heart, yet taught at length by his own suf- 
ferings, apprehends himself thereby qualified to par- 
ticipate at seasons in others' woes. That such cha- 



66 



racters [alluding to the death of her husband] should be 
snatched from us just at the time when, from their ex- 
perience, maturity of judgment, and other ample means, 
they seem as it were in the zenith of their usefulness? 
certainly appears to our finite and limited understandings 
not less mysterious than awful. Yet to our faith it is 
at times evident that He who hath his way in the whirl- 
wind and in the storm, whose path is in the great 
waters, and whose footsteps are not known, — and to my 
faith it has been this day renewedly given to believe, 
and a desire raised to encourage thee, my valued friend, 
under thy present trial to believe also, that this Almighty, 
this incomprehensible Being doeth all things well ; and 
that even his most inscrutable and obscure dispensations 
shall ultimately work together for good to those who love 
Him. What then have those who desire above all things 
to love and fear their Creator to do, but patiently to wait 
for the knowledge of his will, implicitly obeying it when 
clearly manifested to them ; and not only so, but even by 
submissive resignation endeavouring to follow Him, when 
He is pleased to introduce them into a hidden, gloomy, and 
cheerless path ? . Yea, though He may bring the blind by 
a way that they know not, and lead them in paths that 
they have not known, still let them follow Him, confiding 
in his gracious promise, that even here He will not leave 
them nor forsake them. My own rebellious heart and 
inflexible will bear me witness, that it has been through 
many a conflict that my advancement so far as I have 
already attained, be this what it may, has been effected ; 
yet having received mercy, and having also been hitherto 
helped with a little help in times of difficulty and distress, 
I faint not, but trust I am feebly pressing forward towards 



67 



that mark of perfect dedication and obedience from which 
I often seem to myself to be at an awfully discouraging 
distance ; yet at other seasons, animated by the renewing 
of faith and hope, I am concerned to invite others, and 
especially my fellow-professors, to accompany me in this 
tribulated but holy and glorious path. And whilst I feel 
myself as in bonds, both spiritual and temporal, I sometimes 
earnestly crave that these, in the Lord's time, may be so far 
broken as that I may become more qualified than has yet 
been the case to be a minister of consolation to my dear 
friends. 

No. 44. To Joseph Gurxey, 

1815, 9 mo. 26. — I lament with thee over the poor 
sailors and their still more miserable pillagers, who seem 
to occupy one of the lowest situations on the scale of 
human depravity: still let us pity them ; I think I 
sometimes do sincerely. 

That the men-of-war collected at Plymouth afforded a 
grand and striking spectacle I have no doubt ; and it is 
very probable that, as stupendous and rare objects, I might 
also have admired them, though of their symmetry or the 
want of it, I am but a poor judge, as they do not sail 
here, neither have they much attracted my observation 
when I might have made some. Of their employment, 
however, I can speak with more decision, and say that 
I detest it. As a system I think the gigantic wickedness 
of war can only be equalled by its monstrous absurdity, 
and that it is no less obnoxious to philosophy than to 



68 



religion. In making up my mind on this deeply-affecting, 
and from its magnitude, interesting subject. I have en- 
deavoured, as perhaps is the best way in such case.?, to 
place it in the strongest light. I never find it more clearly 
reflected than by a comparison with what the apostle has 
aptly defined to be " the fruits of the flesh" and " of the 
spirit." When thus tried, it appears in my view to possess, 
or to have in its train, all the former, and few. if any. of the 
latter qualities. And if this be true, however cautious we 
ought to be, in consideration of what and where we all are? 
of applying harsh language to individuals, yet as a practice 
common among men, have I said, or can anything be said 
too severe of that which, instead of peace and good- will, 
breathes destruction and misery in every possible, every 
acrofravated form, to the human race ( Yes. of warriors may 
it not be said, in the emphatic language of Scripture. " Their 
feet are swift to shed blood : destruction and misery are in 
their ways, and the way of peace have they not known.'" 
And though I would not apply indiscriminately to the 
soldier the lano-uaofe of the succeeding ver-e. ** There is no 
fear of God before their eyes." yet I do most unequivocally 
believe, that so far as a man even of amiable and virtuous 
dispositions (and such I grant there may be) is connected 
with war, so far it is a drawback upon his Christian 
character. 

Of those stately buildings, too, which thou hast mentioned 
as having been admired by our late dear friend, perhaps 
we each of us think somewhat alike ; but like the ships 
just spoken of, they are connected with a trade which, 
though less abhorrent to our feelings, we cannot approve. 
Yet here again let us discriminate between persons and 



69 



things. I have no doubt that there are manv valuable 
characters in trie Established Church ; and though I fear 
many of her ministers are, to say the least, mercenary 
men, vet towards others I have to my comfort thought, 
myself qualified at times to apply this language : " When 
I meet a man of a pure mind, my own is at rest/' 
After all these allowances, with the unjust and oppres- 
sive traffic of priesthood or priestcraft, take which we like 
best for a text, I have long; been disgusted ; and like 
Cowper have been ready at times to laugh or mourn at the 
rueful jest. For really when at this moment I take a dis- 
passionate, and I think unprejudiced, view of the worst 
kind of priests of all ages and under every name, where 
such appointments are or have been made, I find less 
charity towards them, possessing so many advantages, than 
for the poor outcasts of society whom I have just told thee 
I pity : — numbers of whom, I apprehend, friendless, help- 
less, and ignorant, have been thus led, like the captive 
victim, to their own ruin ; though others doubtless have 
volunteered on the dreadful path. But for the hypocritical 
and still more daring sinner, who, under pretence of religion 
and protected by law, with haughty step and supercilious 
brow, practices wickedness and deceit — with this character 
my very soul is at variance; and I have a heavy charge 
against it for contributing more than most other things to 
my youthful scepticism, as I believe it has also done in all 
times and places whatever it has appeared, to that of in- 
fidelity in o-eneral. 

Thou wilt probably think me very cynical, but having 
thyself proposed the different subjects, thou must have 
patience if possible to hear me on one more, as, after dealing 



70 



about me so freely on others, it seems but fair to look 
at home, and take some notice of thy " seven women to 
one man," in our own little community. This circumstance 
is certainly cause of depression, though not I think for 
dismay. I recollect a time when, on viewing our ministry, 
where also a degree of the same disproportion prevails, 
I felt myself rather stimulated than disheartened by this 
part of the prospect. I really felt a glow of honest shame 
that those whom we sometimes call weak, subordinate, &c. 
should leave all that is dear to them, as many of them do, 
to encounter most kinds of hardship and peril, whilst the 
lords of creation were some at the counter, some at the 
desk, and it may be a few on their farms ; all pursuing 
pleasure or gain. Need it surprise thee, if when thus ex- 
cited. I should have felt something of a desire to be made 
worthy to accompany these female pilgrims, not only 
in their peregrinations but trials, which I cannot help 
thinking must to their sensible minds often be very 
great ? Consistently therefore with these sentiments, when 
the feet of my sisters are directed this way, I sometimes 
proffer myself as their guide through the long stages of 
Lincolnshire. 

Just at parting, shouldst thou wish to know how it fares 
with me spiritually, I may tell thee that my secret 
exercises have of late been sometimes attended and my 
heart softened, by the mingled emotions of grief and of 
gratitude. Of grief that naturally, as the offspring of Adam, 
I am what I am ; — -and of gratitude that the Lord is not 
only long-suffering and merciful, but graciously disposed, 
by the aid of his Spirit, to ameliorate and improve this 
fallen and degenerate nature. I am aware that many are 



71 



of opinion, that thus to proclaim, as perhaps they might 
call it, our own humility, is near of kin to pride, or done to 
court the praise of being or rather seeming humble. But 
I have thought it possible to refine too much on this 
point, and that some worthy characters whom I have 
known and loved have done so. For to me it seems 
allowable to say or write anything that may tend to pro- 
duce real abasement in ourselves or others, or to magnify 
and exalt the Divine character and its attributes, which 
perhaps never appear more dignified and luminous than 
when placed in contrast with our own limited powers, and 
with those imperfections which from the fall, I suppose, 
have been derived to our bodies and our minds. 

Wherefore, my valued friend, without being too casuis- 
tical, let us not be afraid, even by the communication of our 
own experiences, of exhorting and encouraging each other 
to that abhorrence of self which a sight of the Divine per- 
fections excited in one formerly.* Let us also encourage 
each other to the praise of that Almighty Power which, 
from our youth up, has done and prevented, and is daily 
doing and pr eventing, much for us. If it were not so, where 
should we have long since been, or where should we yet 
soon be, both as to spiritual and temporal things ; and for 
all these mercies, ancient and new, should not all within us 
unite and say, Alleluia ? 

No. 45. To Joseph GurNey. 

1816, 2 mo. 26.— Ah! what is morality? and what are 
the talents, natural or acquired, by which it is taught ? In 

* Job, xlii. 6. 



72 



the view which I at present have of them they resemble the 
small cordage which may indeed be sufficient for us in a 
calm, but will be found very inadequate in the storm. 
While our sun is in its zenith, or wafted by gentle and 
ambrosial gales, like swans upon the tide, we sail securely 
and complacently along : — but a small force may be 
necessary to conduct or restrain us. But when midnight 
darkness prevails, when neither moon nor stars appear, 
when a tempest lies heavy on us, and the winds blow from 
all quarters — then tossed as between Scylla and Charybdis 
— which, like those I would figure by them, are not 
fabulous dangers, — at such a season as this we have need 
of our pilot, our cables, our anchors. Those who sail 
near the shore or in shallow streams may require but a 
slender equipment, but the circumnavigator must be well 
found. 

Far be it from me to envy those whose privilege it may 
be to walk in a comparatively smooth way, with safety 
and acceptance in the Divine sight. If their state be that 
of acceptance* I would not interrupt its tranquillity or 
disturb its repose, though it know nothing of hanging its 
harp upon the willow, or should enjoy a perpetual capacity 
to sing Psalms. How far this may be the state of any, or 
what may be their number, it is not for me to say, but 
I am strongly impressed with a belief, that in all ages, 
of course our own not excepted, a remnant, and perhaps 
not a verv small one, have had a widelv different allot- 
ment — have had to pass as through the fire, and therein to 
be " refined as silver is refined, and tried as gold is tried/' 
Whilst under these occasionally renewed operations, they 
have found it hard work getting along — their faith and 
hope and patience all ready to fail them. Insomuch that 



73 



like certain pious, Scriptural characters, when thus closely 
tried, they have petitioned that, if consistent with the Divine 
will, their life might be taken from the earth, seeing they 
were no better than their fathers. And I have thought 
that there may be one very reconciling apology for the 
desire of death produced by such a pressure of exercise or 
of affliction, if kept within the limits of humble resignation, 
that if we could no more promote the sacred cause, 
we should no longer be in danger of dishonouring it. 

I noticed what thou sayst of thy discourse with S. A. on 
the subject of war. I am one with thee in thinking that 
our judgments often arise out of the improper indulgence of 
our passions : remove the cause, and we prevent the 
suffering — let the drunkard be sober, and he shall have less 
headache. If our duty and our happiness are materially 
connected, why should not misery to a considerable extent 
follow the breach of it ? But I am afraid of entering at 
any length into a discussion of war: it is a subject on which 
I am so apt to forget my own weakness, and to be so 
carried away by the powerful stimulus of the moment, that 
I find it too difficult for me to express myself with suffici- 
ent acquiescence and regard to the mysterious conduct of 
Providence, who doubtless permits such, — and such are the 
bulk of mankind, — as reject that government which I 
should call an individual theocracy, and in my view 
the best of all governments — these He doubtless permits 
to punish themselves and each other with the sword. 

Considering war in the abstract, I find it equally re- 
pugnant to my understanding as a man, and to my feelings 
as a Christian; and this is so much the case, that were I, 
what I never shall be, or what, constituted as in many 
respects I am, it is not proper I should be, an orator and a 



74 



senator, were I seated on this eminence, a war minister 
might probably receive more opposition, at least more decla- 
mation from me on this subject, than has been heard in all the 
parliaments of all countries. For however unequal to the 
task, I have a notion that this dreadful practice is capable 
of being placed in a view more disgusting and degrad- 
ing to human nature, and more disparaging to nature's 
God, than to my knowledge has ever yet been attempted 
in our chief national assemblies. I think it might be made 
to appear to stand in direct opposition to all the amiable 
and excellent dispositions which the apostle has called 
" the fruits of the Spirit," whilst it might be as satisfactorily 
proved to be the legitimate and natural offspring of those 
evil ones which he has denominated " the fruits of the 
flesh bitter and unwholesome fruits, engendered in the 
worst parts of our being, and matured by the grand adver- 
sary of mankind — by that malignant spirit who has been 
its betrayer and murderer from the beginning. 

No. 46. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1816, 7 nio. 5. — As my recent turn into Norfolk was 
alternately interesting, impressive, and sweet, so the re- 
membrance of it is satisfactory; and I have been made 
thankful that in revisiting my low situation, and in some 
respects lonely home, I have found it a quiet habitation. 
This has led me afresh to admire the divine condescension j 
and goodness, not only in forgiving, for his own name's 
sake, his dear Son's sake, and our poor soul's sake, the 
sins of wilful disobedience, but in passing by those lesser 
omissions and commissions which through weakness and 
infirmity, were He not a more merciful than severe judge, 



75 

might, even after our conversion and whilst endeavouring in 
general to serve and to please Him, be justly charged upon 
us. Yes : I am not only willing to believe, but am fully 
persuaded, that amidst all the helps and the favours of the 
time I passed in Norfolk, and some of these were no common 
ones, every day of mine might have been thus marked. 
And yet whilst our poor frail nature is ready to tremble 
under such impressions as these, to feel at the same time no 
condemnation, w T hat an unspeakable and unmerited favour ! 
Of the love then wherewith we are loved by our Creator, 
and the manner in which our feeblest endeavours, if 
sincere, are accepted of Him, may it not indeed be said, — ■ 

" 0 the height and depth surprising ! 
0 the length and breadth how great ! 
Generations past and rising 
Shall the bliss participate." 

For thy dear ^suffering daughter, and my beloved friends, 
her tender and affectionate parents, I have found that a 
consoling sense which while with them prevailed much 
with me, did not until about to part and since leaving them 
receive the addition of so acute a sympathy as might have 
been expected. She appeared to me to be endeavouring, - 
and with considerable success, after an acquiescence in her 
lot of trial. Is not this the very essence of prayer and of 
praise ? and have we not cause to believe that any one whom 
Infinite "Wisdom has laid upon the couch or the pillow of 
declining health, though a child in other respects, may, by 
this resignation, be as sufficiently supported and as sweetly 
comforted as those who, entrusted with different powers, 
are by the same unerring authority sent across the rolling 
billows, to meet the face of opposing tumult in distant 
lands with a message of peace ? 

e 2 



76 



We have been very busy since our return. Last second- 
day was the finishing of our sheep- shearing, at which 
about noon we gaye a simple treat to all poor children who 
come and bring a spoon with them. It consists of wheat- 
frumenty, with sweets, raisins, &c, to make it palatable. 
They eat it standing on the green near the kitchen-door, 
upon temporary tables of boards, and some of the little 
ones recline with their mothers on the o-rass. It is rather 
difficult to number them exactly ; but I belieye there were 
not less than one hundred and fifty thus eno-ao'ed at one 
time, besides stragglers. This custom is I belieye rather 
ancient, and I can remember its being pretty general here : 
it is now nearly obsolete ; but the sight is so interesting, 
and a good meal, with much pleasure to the receivers, 
is bestowed at so moderate an expense, that I cannot 
give up my own share of gratification in the business. 



No. 4/. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 



1816, 9 mo. 21. — Did I not more frequently think of 
you than tell you so, I should expect the reproach of my 
own heart : by it, however, I am not at present on this 
ground accused. It is sometimes a matter of regret with 
me that my thoughts are not more frequently such as 
I could communicate with a greater prospect of reciprocal 
satisfaction, but I cannot command a good thought, much 
less breathe a prayer when I would. When I can do either, 
there are few indeed of my dear friends on whose behalf I 
should be more ready to prefer them at the footstool of 
that mercy to which we are all debtors ; and when 



77 



we are permitted to approach which, I believe we do well 
to remember others as well as ourselves. 

But from the opportune and acceptable appearance of a 
letter from one of you the last evening, I do not know that 
I could have made any addition to this brief effusion, ex- 
cept I had said, how pleasant the thought was to me that 
our last letters, as has sometimes happened before, crossed 
upon the road, a circumstance that reminds one of, and 
even bespeaks, a willingness to shake hands. 

I was also indebted to that letter for sending me to my 
Bible. By it I was corrected of a little misconception, 
which did not however materially affect my subject of 
seeking gold, as I did not mean an attack upon the 
immediate or improper search of that dazzling toy 
only, but upon any other of our castle-building schemes 
of earthly happiness, of which you know there are many. 
In turning over the journal of our departed friend 
S. G. ? I not only found instruction pleasingly conveyed, 
but satisfaction in its more substantial form. Perusing- the 
extracts from her letters, in particular, one observation for- 
cibly struck me, how much her hopes and fears resembled 
ours, confirming me in a sentiment which I think George 
Dilwyn has thus expressed : "Hope and fear are essentials 
in religion." I am more inclined to mention this, because 
if I mistake not, my friend J. G. has been sometimes more 
alarmed for my timidity than I have been for his courage. 
I fancy we should blend them ; but how difficult it is, at 
least for the coward, to make them nicely incorporate ! 
Perhaps this difficulty is never greater with me than in 
religious movements, or when looking towards my dear 
motherless children. 

I was glad of and her companions visit at 



78 



Gedney ; it seemed like opening a little spring of refresh- 
ment in a weary, if not a desert, land : and is not this one 
of the effects which, under gracious appointment, our visits 
are sometimes permitted to produce ? whatever might be 
my claim, I gladly accepted the boon. 

The account of your domestic situation was interesting 

to me. I cannot wonder that having had dear ■ at home 

this summer should have increased reciprocal attachment, 
and have made the prospect of another separation painful : 
it seems comfortable, however, that there is so much light 
upon it, as may enable you to move in hope, leaving the 
event to Him who not only beholds our actions, but re- 
gards their motives, and whose blessing alone can prosper 
anything we design or attempt. I do not express myself 
thus lightly, or as in words of course, but as a lesson 
which it has cost me something to learn, and to which I 
have often great need to recur. 



No. 48. To Joseph Gurney. 

1816, 10 mo. 9. — Although I have read and may have 
reasoned on the limited nature of human powers, I per- 
haps was never more practically convinced both of their 
imbecility and contracted scope, than by the present cala- 
mitous harvest weather. That we can neither command a 
ray of sunshine, nor stay the bottles of heaven, is a truth 
which I desire may be as profitably impressed upon many 
minds as I hope it is indelibly on my own. Be not sur- 
prised and say, I might have known this long before. 
Alas ! we are poor creatures, learn slowly, and often 
want even our former knowledge renewing. 



79 



No. 49. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 

1816, 12 mo. 21. — Being this morning enabled more 
than at some other times (for such things are not at my 
command) to pay a visit of tender sympathy to your 
stripped habitation, and under this feeling renewedly not 
only to crave but to hope that He who had graciously been 
with you in former trials would not leave nor forsake you 
either in the present or future, — these thoughts I am 
willing to communicate, from the sweet satisfaction it would 
afford me to be the medium of conveying to you, if it were 
but as a grain of that comfort wherewith (adored be his 
mercy) I myself have in seasons of deep affliction been 
" comforted of God." This you know was the wish and 
the endeavour of an apostle formerly, for those who were 
in any trouble. I trust it is allowable for Christians of the 
present day, and so far as I may be allowed to appreciate 
my own feelings, it is at the present juncture, to you- 
wards, affectionately and sincerely mine. 

Perhaps there are few things that have not their degrees : 
that this is the case in affliction I am convinced both by 
the observation of others and my own : it has its pro- 
gressive stages, and perhaps each stage distinguished by a 
peculiar characteristic. To you I need not enumerate, and 
indeed my intention is nearly to confine myself to one, and 
one too which, from the resignation whereby it is marked, 
has been called by a writer of great sensibility, in one 
of his most pathetic compositions, "the sabbath of the 
mind/' Yet as the natural life cannot be supported by 
rest alone, but requires a renewal of food, so whilst in this 
probationary state it seems also to be with the mind ; and 



80 



however peaceful the sabbath alluded to may be. yet with- 
out occasional renewals of strength, a kind of vacuum and 
debility will probably be induced, injurious, if not de- 
structive, to those energies of the spiritual life, which, both 
on account of ourselves and others, it seems to be equally 
our duty and our interest to endeavour to preserve : and 
wherein under circumstances of pressure, somewhat like 
the poor animal in a receiver from which the air is ex- 
hausted, do our efficacious endeavours consist ? I believe 
in application to the Fountain of life and power, that He 
will be pleased from time to time to infuse into our souls 
such portions of his own divine breath as may in every 
stage of sorrow and suffering, through which He may see 
meet to conduct them, preserve their health and vigour, to 
the promotion of his own glory, their solid comfort, and 
the encouragement of others in an acquiescence with every 
providential dispensation. 

• No. 50. To J. and C. Foster and E. Storr. 

1816, 12 mo. 28. — Not only my heart but my eyes were 
ready to overflo w on the return of such an inclination to write 
to you, as I am both unwilling and afraid to suppress. I 
express myself thus because it seems an inclination not 
merely resulting from that affection which I trust neither 
silence nor absence will ever diminish, but as including; in 
its comprehensive embrace all the interest and solicitude 
which I am capable of feeling for everything appertaining 
to you, that a friendship natural or religious can be called 
upon to feel for : — a sense which, when granted me as the 
moving principle of an address either vocal or written to 



81 



any of my dear friends, I am very thankful for, because 
when I can tell them this, though I should tell them no 
more, it may afford them a little satisfaction, perhaps some 
encouragement. 

Since I saw you, and since we exchanged a letter, 
I have heard, through different channels, of circumstances 
which "I conclude must have nearly affected you. I trust 
the best support has been vouchsafed, adequate to these 
trials ; and that how 7 ever great, you have not thought them 
peculiar, as though some new or strange thing had hap- 
pened to you, seeing that such are the tribulations also of 
your brethren and sisters who are in the world. For 
although probation may vary in its shape or kind, yet 
I believe, did we know all things, we should clearly see 
that in degree it is much more equally dispensed than 
when looking only at our own lot we are apt to suppose ; 
but when we consider that some afflictions are obvious, 
others secret, and that those who are exercised by them 
are of very different experience and strength, we may easily 
conceive the incompetence of our limited faculties for 
judging in a case so difficult ; but that it requires omni- 
science itself to appreciate our different states, and omni- 
potence to apportion to each of them its due degree of 
either suffering or joy. 

That some, perhaps many, though their number is im- 
possible and unnecessary for us to ascertain, are tried as to 
a hair's breadth ; or in other words, to the extent of their 
capacity for bearing, is a thing which I, probably you also, 
have much reason to believe. In the course of our pil- 
grimage, have we not at seasons been brought into situa- 
tions comparable to that outward tempest to w T hich an 
apostle (the vicissitudes of whose life might not be unaptly 

e 5 



82 



compared to a voyage) was in his days exposed ? — a storm 
scarcely exceeded by any account upon record, wherein not 
only the lights of heaven were for many days and nights 
withheld, but articles of the greatest importance and value 
were cast overboard for the sake of lightening the ship, 
which was then suffered to drive before the wind, and yet, 
though the vessel was ultimately destroyed, not a single 
life was lost. 

Ah i my beloved friends, how striking the resemblance 
between the circumstance just alluded to, and that of those 
who, sorely driven by the wintry blasts of adversity, find 
that all their former experiences and the efforts of their un- 
derstanding, which on many occasions heretofore have served 
them well, are now no longer of any avail ; and that the 
only way to save themselves from distraction or despair, 
seems to be to cease from their own exertions, and cast their 
most valued attainments as into the sea of conflict, commit- 
ting and commending the poor frailbark of nature, with all its 
appendages, natural or acquired, to the winds and the waves, 

or rather to that God who rules them! And as this has 

i 

been found to be the last resort of the distressed mariner, 
when tossed with a tempest, and not comforted, so it has 
proved his wisest course ; for though it may not have 
brought him immediately to his desired haven of eternal 
rest and peace, he has perhaps ere long found anchorage- 
ground on which to rest awhile and recruit his nearly ex- 
hausted powers. And after having taken refreshment and 
repose under the sheltering wing of Him whom the winds 
and the ocean obey, gratefully impressed also by a sense of 
his marvellous deliverance, he perhaps finds himself not 
only more disposed, but by the loss of some things he had 
parted with in the storm, more disencumbered, and at 



83 



more entire liberty to prosecute the remainder of his spiri- 
tual course through life, than had ever been the case 
previous to those sore tribulations and exercises. 

Xo. 51. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1817, 3 mo. 17- — With a heart like a common one, 
" deceitful above all things/' and which, before its ac- 
quaintance with the Redeemer, sank into the most 
humiliating degradation, and would yet, as I have cause to 
believe, if deprived of his preventive and supporting grace, 
ao-ain be liable to sink, as naturally as a weight let fall 
tends to its centre, into a state which might not only astonish 
and confound, but ruin me ; — under such a circumstance, 
what need do I daily feel, not of fine notions and fair 
speeches, but of a Saviour who is both able and willing to 
save, and that to the very uttermost ! And this I believe is 
not peculiar to me, but is the lot of all the sons and 
daughters of Adam. And as nothing in the most trying 
parts of thy experience can probably exceed this, so can 
anything be more likely, than the belief that we have each 
tasted and handled something of it, to excite those earnest 
desires or prayers for each other's preservation, which, as 
thou hast justly observed, are among the number of 
Christian privileges and consolations ? 

Well : — be of good cheer, for I believe the Master hath 
called and is calling thee ; and whatever difficulties thou 
mayst meet with in endeavouring to obey his call, yet as 
thou art concerned to follow Him in simplicity, and as en- 
tire dedication is thy only aim — as thus thou perseverest, 
thou shalt ultimately witness that overcoming to which, 



84 



especially in the very interesting book of the apostle Johns 
Revelations, so many precious promises are annexed. Having 
adverted to this part of Scripture, I may tell thee how 
sweet the character of the Philadelphian angel appears to 
me, so that though more than half-desponding I am ready 
to cry : O ! that I might obtain such a testimony at that- 
awful tribunal, where every man shall be judged according 
to his works ! However, let us not cease to aspire after 
this testimony, contenting ourselves at the same time with 
the lowest hopes of reward ; to be just admitted into the 
bride-chamber before the door is shut. 0 ! what an un- 
speakable, what an unmerited mercy will this be to some 
poor souls ! 

25th. — In differences of religious sentiment, perhaps few 
are more disposed, encompassed as I am with human in- 
firmities, to. make allowance for them. The right of 
private judgment too, abused as we are for refusing it, 
perhaps few more freely admit ; because it seems to me to 
be inseparable from that free agency with which our 
Creator has seen meet to entrust us. But whilst I fully and 
unequivocally recognize this unalienable right, I am com- 
pelled to believe that it is often, very often, made subservient 
to the purposes of passion, prejudice, and vanity ; or lan- 
guishes under an indolence and an ignorance which ought 
to be, and which might be, by means within the reach of 
most, better informed. I therefore feel solicitous, for few 
things more so, that in the exercise of this most valuable 
of all spiritual and temporal privileges, our inquiries on 
serious subjects may always be proportioned to the import - 
ance of the decision. 

Wilt thou, to use thy own words, excuse my thus 
running on, making allowance too for all the imperfections 



85 



which I assure thee arise from more than one kind of 
weakness. For to myself I very often, and even now, seem 
like the ruins of a man. And yet, amidst the decay of 
bodily and. relaxation of mental strength, hope, sweet hope 
in an intercessor with the Father continues at times to 
cheer me. 0 ! how thankful have I been for a ray of it 
this very day ! 

No. 52. To Joseph Gurney. 

1817- 5 mo. 25. — The sittings of the Yearly Meeting 
have been solemn and weighty, friends appearing gene- 
rally preserved in a quiet, harmonious, and condescending 
disposition, which I much desire may be continued to us, 
as these are qualities which seem to me to be so very con- 
sistent with our profession, and I hope are becoming more 
and more acknowledged to be such, both in precept and 
practice, when we are thus assembled for the professed 
purpose of promoting vital Christianity, which, to epito- 
mize, we may perhaps call " peace on earth and good- 
will to men.' 5 

The meetings for worship which I have attended seem 
to me to have been seasons of Divine condescension and 
favour, the silent part of them impressive, and some of the 
communications of a highly instructive and awakening", 
though consolatory, 'character. I am always glad when 
these happen to be so united in the testimonies of our 
friends, that those who are furthest off may be invited to 
draw near, and even the most rebellious encouraged to 
believe, that on repentance and amendment of life, through 
the merits of a glorious and holy Redeemer, their sins shall 
be foroiven them. This I believe thou k no west is the 
main stay of thy poor friend, whose hand is ready to 



86 



tremble whenever he touches the awful theme ; he feels 
perplexed, but uot iu despair. 

31st. — Six days have elapsed, iu which I have not been 
able to find an hour in which, without intruding on those 
devoted to occasions that left me no choice or rest, I could 
resume the interesting employment of thus communing 
with thee. The Yearly Meeting of women friends con- 
cluded with one sitting yesterday, ours with two, and 
each I believe with much satisfaction, which to me suf- 
fered no drawback from the meetino- of ministers and 
elders this morning, which I thought partook of that pre- 
cious evidence of Divine regard that has attended many, if 
not most, of the sittings, both of the general and select 
meetings, uniting friends together in the best bonds, and 
causing them, I doubt not, at seasons, to remember with 
affection, sympathy, and fervent desire, their absent bre- 
thren : feelino's and sentiments under which I have 
wished, and I think not wished in vain, to pay a mental 
visit to my dear friends at Nice,^ whose claims are, and 
long have been, so strong upon anything I may have to 
spare, whether of a religious or social nature. 

* # * Resignation, as we sometimes find it infused into 
the mind, sweetens our bitterest cups. This brings to my 
recollection a season wherein time, place, and circumstance 
being all against me, I was in great danger of murmuring, 
when suddenly my thoughts were calmed by the folio wing- 
simple lines being formed within me, I cannot tell how : 

No matter where, if Thou art there, 

Supporting by thy grace ; 
Thy will be done, through Christ thy Son, 

In every time and place. 

* His Mends were then resident there for the benefit of the 
health of a beloved child. 



87 



No. 53. To J. J. and Jane Gurney. 

181 7, 9 mo. 29. — How great is the mystery of godli- 
ness S This is an exclamation that has probably escaped 
the lips of thousands before our day, and may with equal 
probability burst the bonds of astonished silence when we 
are gone. Great, superlatively great, indeed, is this mys- 
tery ! — and, as I have thought, in few things more re- 
markable than in its raising up as from the stones of 
the street, the dead in trespasses and sins ; and making 
of these, even of these, children unto Abraham, who in 
their day and time shall be instrumental in gathering 
other children unto Him ; and these, again, becoming 
in their turn like foster-parents, or delegated shepherds, 
under the one universal Head, to generations yet unborn, 
until the grand design of Omnipotence, in placing us 
where and what we are, shall be completed. 

Can we too much admire this glance into the mystery, 
if, as I think, such an one it is ; or admitting that such it 
may be, can we too much adore its Author \ — a very 
small part of whose wondrous works, either in nature or 
in grace, are, as I apprehend, unveiled to us, or perhaps 
could be borne by us, whilst probationers here below : an 
idea which I think is beautifully illustrated, if not con- 
firmed, by the following stanza of Beattie : 

" One part, one little part, we dimly scan 
Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream — 
Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, 
If but that little part incongruous seem ; 
Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals deem : 
Oft from apparent ills our blessings rise. 
0, then, renounce that impious self-esteem, 
That aims to trace the secret of the skies. 
For thou art but of dust ; be humble and be wise. " 



88 



I now wish, with an affection and solicitude which 
are as foreign to mere compliment as they are strangers to 
them, to congratulate you on an union which I think has 
much of mind in it as well as of outward advantages, 
and so much of both, as to promise the greatest share of 
temporal felicity. But whilst I thus most sincerely con- 
gratulate you on all the advantages of such an event, I 
should apprise you, that even these satisfactions and privi- 
leges should be enjoyed in reference and subordination to 
the Giver of every good and perfect gift — that they ought 
frequently to be offered in sacrifice at his footstool — and 
that whilst you admit no inferior competitor into your 
hearts, He, the Creator of the heart, must reign unrivalled 
there. 

I would also apprise you, that without any fault of 
ours, the sweetest, the most innocent earthly enjoyment is 
liable to frequent and unexpected interruptions. In this 
ordeal, this prison of the soul, many things combine against 
our present happiness. The war of elements, the more 
fierce and cruel war of men s passions, prejudices, and inter- 
ests, all aggravated by the malice of an unwearied and 
potent enemy, will one or other of them be frequently re- 
minding the most prosperous and the most happy, that 
this world affords not the ultimate rest of an immortal 
spirit, — that earth is not its final home. Of these things, 
beloved pair, though you knew them before, I have 
thought it might not be amiss, in the zenith of your allow- 
able enjoyment, to put you again in remembrance. 

No. 54. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1817, 10 mo. 30. — I have thought I could scarcely do 
full justice to either of us without just telling thee how 



89 



much, and how circumstantially, thou hast once more 
given expression to my own feelings and experience in the 
description of thy outset, or, at least, hitherto short course 
in the work of the ministry. This I find to be such a 
counterpart of my case, not only in its earlier stages, but I 
might almost say to the present time, that I am inclined 
to give thee thy own words, as the best comment I can 
devise on this important and interesting subject. 

Thou sayest, " To open my mouth at meeting is a duty 
which I have had deep reason to believe has been required 
at my hands not unfrequently. It has seemed to me im- 
possible to do otherwise, consistently with my own peace, 
than to 20 straight forwards in it, without much looking 1 
to the judgment of others. What others think of me I 
know not; but I do heartily desire to live more singly 
in this, and in everything else, to the Lord, and not to 
man." 

These are thy own expressions, to which, if I added 
anything, it might be, that on this walk it has hitherto 
been my lot to go, as it were, blindfold, endeavouring 
with as much simplicity as I can to commit myself and 
my work to the Lord and my friends, in the hope, that if 
I materially err, either the one or the other will correct 
me : and I may here acknowledge having been a few 
times " tenderly admonished" by the latter, and I hope to 
my profit. 

No. 55. To J. J. GrURNEY. 

1818, 2 mo. 27- — Though speaking much of oneself is 
not very desirable, yet, facts being the best supporters of 
opinions, I should therefore say, that as time revolves over 



90 



my own head, new and in some instances unlooked-for 
solicitudes attend its revolutions; and as a further illus- 
tration I might add, that just now — though my own indi- 
vidual trust, knowing in whom I have believed, remains 
unshaken — yet on looking around me, into our little reli- 
gious society and the world in general, I am embarrassed 
and perplexed ; so much so that the chief support I have 
is derived from such passages as these : " Without me ye 
can do nothing" — " Except ye be converted, and become 
as little children," &c. — " If any man will be my dis- 
ciple," &c. — " If any man will be wise," &c. The fol- 
lowing passage, which I think is from Rutty' s Diary, 
seems also much to suit the present state and views of my 
mind : " Look at the friendship of men in the world and 
in the church ; look at the tedious pursuits after, and the 
imperfections of science ; the darkness and weakness of 
thy own mind ; the uncertainty of riches ; the danger and 
hurt annexed to eating and drinking, and to company ; 
and the suggestions of Lucifer in thy brightest moments ; 
and see if thou canst rest thy soul here without aspiring 
after a better state." 

Thus mayst thou, my dear younger brother, perceive, 
that although so much before thee in years, my food as 
well as thine consists, in part, of " unpalatable herbs," 
and is, I assure thee, much more appalling than grateful 
to a nature such as mine ; yet, being mercifully accom- 
panied in its ministration by a good degree of submissive 
acceptance, to use thy own language : "I hope, and 
almost believe," its tendency is to deepen ; for I never 
remember feeling much more willing to have my under- 
standing confounded, my purposes, both spiritual and 
temporal, broken, — and thus stripped of everything useful 



91 



or ornamental, to renew my endeavours to follow the 
internal leadings of Christ. Lead, then, and guide through 
the wilderness, storm, or impenetrable darkness, according 
to thy holy will, 0 Lord ! I beseech Thee, is the present 
prevailing language of my soul. 

As to prayer, such is the nature of my regard for thee, 
thy dear wife, and sister Priscilla, that it seems almost as 
natural for me to desire good for you as for myself ; and 
since the receipt of thy letter I have considered it no small 
privilege to be enabled, not only thus to crave, but to clothe 
my desires in the language of solemn petition, that nothing 
might shake our faith ; that nothing might weaken our 
attachment to religion in general, or to our friends by par- 
ticular profession ; and, finally, that neither heights nor 
depths, principalities nor powers, things present nor things 
to come, may ever be able to separate us from the love of 
God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. But that, on 
the other hand, beings of yesterday, and encompassed with 
infirmities as we are, we may from time to time be enabled 
to discern what the small portion of labour assigned to 
each of us is, in that immense work and incomprehensible 
plan, whose date runs coeval with time itself, but whose 
final consummation and glorious triumph are doubtless 
reserved for eternity. 



No. 56. To Joseph Gurney. 

1818, 3 mo, 26. Birmingham. — I know I can bid you 
as sincere and affectionate a farewell upon paper as if I 
held your right hands: indeed, I think the pen gives some 
persons, under some circumstances, the advantage of per- 
sonal interview ; and I am not quite sure that it may not, 



92 



just now, enable me to say with more distinctness and 
emphasis what I wished for your mutual encourage- 
ment, to say to you, before we respectively left this neigh- 
bourhood, that I never remember a time, since the com- 
mencement of our acquaintance, wlien I have more sensi- 
bly felt that we have all drunk " one cup," and have 
been baptized with " one baptism" — a baptism which I 
need not name — and have thereby been united in those 
bonds, and initiated into that fellowship, wherein, through 
the mysterious workings of Gospel love and power, those 
things are made bitter to us that once were sweet, and 
those things sweet that once were bitter ; among which, I 
trust, we may number " the obedience of faith," and the 
desire to dedicate ourselves unreservedly to the Lord and 
his service* Under this renewed persuasion and hope it is 
that, without adding or diminishing, I wish to bid you a 
most cordial and sympathetic farewell. 

J. H. 

I have just recollected that a few words have passed 
between us on the subject of what I have called my " con- 
version," and which I have stated to be not yet quite 
fourteen years ago. This statement is correct ; for though 
it is true that I assumed a plain appearance, and made 
many changes in my conduct, on the great shock I re- 
ceived at twenty- one years of age, yet, unwilling to relin- 
quish such a captive, strange as it may seem, the enemy 
was suffered by various transformations, working by 
the imagination, the will, or the passions, as best suited 
him, to keep me in bondage until about the time specified: 
when, by a visitation as sudden, and perhaps as unex- 
pected, as the vision of Paul, being about the eleventh 



93 



hour of the day, on the 21st of the 6th month, 1804, as I 
was travelling alone upon the highway ; at such a time 
and manner it was, that " the prey of the terrible " Avas 
delivered, his chain was broken, and I was restored to 
that free agency which, perhaps, I had justly forfeited ; 
and this free agency is the solemn ground on which I now 
consider myself to stand. Do not be too critical upon 
this humbling confession. 



No. 57. To Joseph Gurxey. 

1818, 5 mo. 27- — Such is the difference of our present 
circumstances, that in the retirement of my rural occupa- 
tion, a retirement attended with much entire~solitude, I am 
at liberty to peruse and reperuse a letter, and, if I pos- 
sess the skill, extract all its sweets ; whilst to thee, 
thronged by town avocations of various kinds, a few com- 
pressed sentences may be an interruption. 

With all my consideration for thy time, I must touch 
on a few of the heads of thy letter, which I will do with 
as much brevity as I can. That the Yearly Meeting is so 
large, and in its beginning so comfortable and interesting, 
was very satisfactory information ; and as my staying at 
home was not an untried thing, so it has been accompanied 
by peace, and, shall I say, something more. On second- 
day, when the first sitting of ministers and elders would 
fall, I seemed united in spirit with my dear friends assem- 
bled there, and to enjoy with them a sweet communion as 
at the Lord's table, rejoicing at times, as doubtless would be 
their favoured experience in the God of our common salva- 



94 



tion ! What condescending goodness to a poor creature 
in the midst of care and business, by which that day was 
rather more than commonly marked ! 

I observe what thou hast said about capital punish- 
ments, and unite in thy desire that friends, if they move 
at all, may do it with firmness, and yet with wisdom. 
Thinking, as I do, that every question of jurisprudence 
involves something which lies below the surface, and there- 
fore cannot be well digested, as indeed few things are, in a 
hurry, I have thought, at times, on this subject, and have 
read accounts of the extraordinary success of the Americans 
in taming, by solitary confinement, the figurative bears, 
wolves, and tigers of human kind, more dreadful than those 
of the forest. I hope the time may not be far distant, 
when this and other countries will be equally successful ; 
but do not think me cruel in saying, until that time does 
arrive, I think quiet honesty and unsuspecting innocence 
ought to be protected in the best way we can against de- 
liberate, systematic, and voluntary wickedness ; and I 
w T ish things could be so ordered that Friends might be as 
active as others in promoting an object so essential, not 
only to the security of life and property, but to the very 
existence of social order. 

This is not intended to throw cold water on thy view 
of the benevolent exertions of religion or philanthropy 
to spare the life even of the greatest criminal. I think the 
subject worthy the consideration of such a body as a 
Yearly Meeting of our Society, and I only desire it m ay 
have its due share of this consideration. Thou say est that 
you have some valiant youth among you ; the young and 
the old are distinguished by their respective lineaments : 
age is charged with a coolness bordering on lukewarm- 



95 



ness ; youth with a zeal impatient of delay, forcing that 
which does not readily yield. Temper the ardour of youth 
with what youth calls the insensibility, and thou hast, I 
think, better named the poverty, of more advanced years ; 
for are we not, compared with what we have been, poor 
in health, in spirits, and perhaps in a still more important 
respect ? Still, should our dullness, our poverty, or what- 
ever else we call it, keep the unfledged eagle nearer the 
ground, until he be able to bear elevation, and the fervour 
of a meridian sun, it may save him from giddiness, and the 
other dangers of a too early or too adventurous flight. 
Do not, however, mistake me ; I admire the well-meant 
and sanguine zeal of youth, when properly directed and 
steady in its purpose. 

I acknowledge the justice thou hast done my Birming- 
ham letter, in calling it affectionate. It need not make 
thee doubt thy own conversion, because the circumstances 
attending it may have somewhat differed from mine, seeing 
that the Author of faith and conversion, unlimited in the 
means for effecting any of his purposes, can produce these 
in an infinite variety of ways, either as best adapted to the 
subject acted upon, or on principles inscrutable to us, and 
for reasons which we cannot understand. But taking two 
extreme cases, of which we may form some idea, and which 
perhaps may not be of very rare occurrence, — whilst some 
minds suffer themselves to be almost insensibly allured 
by the drawings of their Heavenly Father s love, from 
one degree of growth and experience to another, more 
obdurate or inflexible spirits persist in their frowardness, 
until the acuteness of their sufferings, or the thunders of 
Mount Sinai, reduce them into subjection or terrify them in- 
to obedience. To this latter class of converts how precious, 



96 



how consoling the assurance — an assurance which, per- 
haps, could alone save them from despair — that He who 
died for them hath also ascended on high, hath led cap- 
tivity captive, hath received gifts for men ; yea, for the 
rebellious also, that the Lord God might dwell among them. 

Free agency is the ground on which I now reckon myself, 
to stand. This agency, I suppose, includes or implies a liberty 
to choose and to pursue either good or evil, but whatever 
be its precise meaning, such is my sense of this liability, 
that its awfulness is almost continually present with me ; 
it is a source of daily and nightly solicitude, and the warn- 
ing voice u Woe unto thee, Chorazin — woe unto thee, 
Bethsaida," &c, seems at times, as it were, to resound in 
my ears. 

We have been sometimes cautioned ao-ainst too great 
exposure of our most humiliating exercises and expe- 
riences ; perhaps from the possibility of indulging too com- 
plaining a disposition on the one hand, or of admini- 
stering discouragement on the other. But as there were 
those formerly who were commanded to go and tell their 
friends how great things had been done for them, whilst 
others were enjoined to conceal similar facts, so it may be 
now ; and if an apostle of the first eminence proclaimed 
himself " less than the least of all saints," may it not be 
allowable for those who apprehend they possess in their 
peculiar temperament all the disadvantages of the fall, to 
describe themselves, when they do it at all, as weaker 
than the weakest of all their brethren ? And whilst they 
can feel hope, and believe many good things for others, and 
have also received much mercy themselves, are neverthe- 
less unable to approach the sacred footstool on their own 
account with a more powerful plea than this, " Lord ! 



97 



pity, pardon, and help thy poor, unworthy creature, who 
ajDproaches thee not with confidence, but with confusion." 
And may not such an one, when addressing a beloved 
brother, with whom it is almost as impossible for him to 
dissemble, as it were difficult for him to conceal, simply 
describe, without either complaint or dismay, how it fares, 
or has fared with his inmost soul ? if, notwithstanding, 
thou shouldst think otherwise, " forgive me this wrong." 

No. 58. To Samuel Roxjth. 

1818, 6 mo. 25. — I have felt for thee with religious 
friendship and esteem on the death of thy late dear mo- 
ther, and under circumstances rather perplexing, in thy 
agricultural concerns. By these we may be taught that 
it is literally, as well as figuratively, by the sweat 
of man s brow that he eats bread, by the labour of 
his hands and the care of his mind; and yet even this 
needful toil may be greatly ameliorated by the lessons 
which, if not too dearly purchased, are of all others the 
most valuable — I mean the results of our own practice 
and experience. 

I hope my present communication will neither prove 
unacceptable nor discouraging ; but if it have any effect, it 
may be that of diverting the attention from things that are 
seen to those things ihat are not seen, and fixing it on that 
purely spiritual object, the mark for the prize of the high 
calling of God in Christ Jesus ; for surely other founda- 
tion, can no man lay, than that is laid which is Jesus 
Christ, to whose merits, mediation, and intercession for poor 
frail and fallen man I therefore affectionately and earnestly 
commend thee with myself. 

F 



98 



No. 59. To Joseph Fostek. 

1818, 8 mo. 7- — I must not omit telling thee how 
much sweet satisfaction I derived from the communication 
I received from each of you in the spring. It seemed just 
the thing to revive my drooping mind from that depres - 
sion to which, under the conditions of a mortal existence, 
it appears that the best and wisest of mankind have in all 
ages been subject; and therefore, surely, I have neither 
right nor reason to claim an exemption. And yet, with 
gratitude to the Author of all our mercies, I have to ac- 
knowledge, with one formerly, that though sometimes cast 
down, I am not destroyed or forsaken ; though perplexed 
by those vicissitudes, both inward and outward, through 
which I have to pass, I am not in despair. He who is 
emphatically denominated the Helper in every needful 
time, has hitherto never failed to aid me, and in various 
ways to support a faith which, alas ! after all I have 
known of his ways and his wonders, is often very weak. 

I was obliged by the history of my cousin W. S.'s rye- 
grass, which appears to me very curious ; but I should 
think not just the same thing as the herbage of our best 
pastures, with which strangers appear to be so pleased. 
But thou shouldst know that I am not, nor ever was. 
more than half an agriculturist. In youth, my attention 
was divided with pleasure under many specious, some of 
them romantic, and others, very injurious forms. In 
middle life, I was much occupied by mental conflict, and 
this, too, of various descriptions ; and now, my dear friend, 
as thou knowest, I am endeavouring to separate myself, 
in some measure, to the service of the Gospel of Christ, of 



99 



that Jesus who loved me and gave himself for me, and 
I trust hath called me by his grace : and though I do not 
affect humility when I acknowledge myself, almost with 
tears, the least, the last, the unworthiest of his servants, 
yet thou canst perhaps credit me when I say that my en- 
gagements, small as they may be in importance, are too 
many to allow of a very close attention to business. 

No. 60. To Joseph Gurney. 

1818, 9 mo. 8. — I sincerely congratulate thee, in that 
on thy return to thy usual residence, after a pretty long 
absence from it, thou hast been enabled to rejoice and 
give thanks, on the very spot which, tTiough doubtless 
the former scene of thy highest enjoyments, has also been 
that of recent and severe trials. And is not this, I have 
been ready to say, the humble triumph of faith ? Is it 
not the victory of a spirit measurably redeemed ? Yet, 
whilst I thus infer from thy delight in the Lord, (for such, 
from thy " dissection" of thankfulness, I think thy delight 
must have been,) I do not regret thy being so far no 
poet as to be restrained or incapacitated from rapture, 
thinking as I do that the Christians joy should partake 
more of a certain old-fashioned, apostolic thing, called 
" trembling," and that the very zenith even of religious 
rejoicing should never rise above the tranquil hope that 
" our names are written in heaven." 

I am sometimes struck with the chapter of beatitudes, 
on contrasting the characters on whom the blessings and 
woes are pronounced, rinding as I do " the poor," " the 
meek," " the mourner," " the peace-maker," " the pure in 

f2 



100 



heart," among the first, and their opposites among the 
last; and this line of providential conduct towards the 
human race may, I think, be traced through much of the 
Scriptures, perhaps through the whole of the New Testa- 
ment. I rejoice in the comfort thou hast been permitted 
to take in thy place and in thy God, believing as I do 
that there is a joy chastised, a satisfaction restrained in the 
way I have hinted at. 

It may be as evident to thee as it is to myself, that from 
difference of temperament, — of our mental course, — we are 
rather prone to lean to the opposite sides of a subject, and 
this apparently without any design ; whilst thou keepest 
guard on the right hand, I would place one on the left. 
Thus whilst a leading position in thy letter is, (I speak 
with reverence,) that a gracious and merciful God is no 
hard task-master, and that therefore He ought to be cheer- 
fully loved, I perhaps may be allowed to think that for 
the same reasons He should be solemnly feared ; and I 
dare say we shall both agree, that in the clue proportion 
and exercise of these two principles, fear and love com- 
bined, like heat and moisture in vegetation, consists our 
greatest security, and deepest if not most luxuriant growth. 
After all, it is to me a very pleasant circumstance in our 
acquaintance, that our aim being similar, whatever route 
we take, we mostly meet at last, and not unfrequently 
find, on comparing our thoughts, that they have been pre- 
viously running in nearly the same channel. Thus I was 
quite prepared to join in thy belief, that an entire resigna- 
tion of all that we are, and all that we possess, is the road to 
the purest and sweetest enjoyment ; and further, that it is 
the only thing that can lead us to that most desirable, 



101 



though too little desired state, of " having nothing, yet pos- 
sessing all things," in the will and at the disposal of Him 
who thus really becomes our " all in all/' 

It seems that both thyself and thy dear companion 
(whom, though I have not yet named, I hope never to 
forget) had become much united in love to the friends you 
have lately left. I do not wonder at this, and I think with 
thee that thy last remark on the nature of this love was an 
improvement or good addition to the first, by considering it, 
in kind at least, as universal and complete, rather than an 
individual and proportionate enjoyment. This I think 
must be the case when, in a collective body, this precious 
influence is felt to pervade the whole, and circulate freely, 
as from vessel to vessel — a rare thing, of which I just 
know enough to believe in it ; but may not even this sub- 
limest spiritual sense with which we are endowed, perfect 
and one as it is in its nature, vary in degree according to 
the receptive power of different vessels, so that, like the 
state of which I consider it an earnest and a foretaste, 
whilst the capacity of receiving this blessedness may vary, 
yet every measure is full both as to quantity and quality, 
so that " he that has much has nothing over, and he that 
has little has no lack." This, in short, is my view of the 
happiness of heaven, a view which, whilst it admits of one 
star differing from another star in glory, yet, like the 
beautiful order of the planetary system, allows of no jar- 
ring or discord. All harmonize, all run their appointed 
courses, and all without envying, perhaps without know- 
ing, the different degrees of consciousness which each 
respectively possesses: all, all unite in their Creators praise ! 

I have read most of the volumes of Mary Fletcher with 
satisfaction, and I would willingly hope some edification, 



102 



satisfied with her wonderful narrations, strongly as they 
taste of a credulity which my early scepticism led me to 
despise, and which I cannot yet receive without much 
allowance, even believing as I now do that there are in 
the experience of divers a few very significant dreams, 
some remarkable providences ; and far be it from me to con- 
sider even wonderful revelations withheld from a favoured 
number, to whom for all- wise purposes they may be espe- 
cially needful, either as means of conversion or in pre- 
paring them for vessels of honour and usefulness ; but in 
the belief of the author having been a sincere, industrious, 
and successful labourer in her Master s cause, as well as 
from many of her wise and experienced remarks, I really 
hope I am the better. The perusal of these books has also 
confirmed me in a notion I had previously entertained, that 
among the spiritual problems of our day, there is one 
which our forefathers, surrounded as they were by dif- 
ferent circumstances, could never, by human sagacity at 
least, have predicted, and, like some of us, had it been 
proposed to them, they might have found it rather difficult 
to solve. I mean the tendency to union among the better 
sort of characters under almost every profession of the 
Christian name, though still widely differing in many 
opinions and practices. This I find to be a subject too 
wonderful for me, and which I can make little more of 
than indulge the hope which I think it naturally inspires, 
that good and not evil may be the ultimate result ; — at 
the same time, believing that there never was a time since 
the origin of our Society, wdien the members of it had 
more need to be careful that they do not get overcharged 
with better things than those merely connected with this 
life, but that each individual endeavour to know his own 



.103 



religious station, and do his own particular duty, without 
too much anxiety as to the task assigned to another. 

No. 61. To Joseph Foster. 

1818, 9 mo. 18. — After ascribing much indeed to an 
over-estimate on your part of my acquaintance and cor- 
respondence, I must, whatever be the real nature or 
ground of such an association, disclaim all merit as due to 
myself therein, knowing most assuredly that in me, that is, 
in my flesh, or first and fallen nature, according to the 
experience of an eminent apostle, dwelleth no good thing ; 
and that therefore, if either benefit or consolation pass 
from me, either by word or writing, to any of my beloved 
friends, the good originates in a higher source, whilst 
as a co-worker therewith, I am indeed a most unpro- 
fitable servant, doing only that which, whether consi- 
dered as a social, reasonable, or dependent being, grateful 
to its Author, or benevolent to its fellow, it is my duty to 
do. As well as thou, and doubtless hundreds more, I am 
at times much tried, often seeming to myself, in these low 
seasons, like a pelican in the wilderness or a sparrow on 
the house-top ; or to change the figure, if a star at all, one 
of the least magnitude, glimmering in midnight, and soon 
to be eclipsed. Thus, my dear friend, it fares with us in 
our pilgrimage ; thus it also fares with our brethren who 
are in the world ; and thus, for our encouragement, let us 
remember it has fared with the spiritual traveller during 
his state of probation, through all the preceding ages of time. 
Thus circumstanced, how great is the goodness of our 
Creator, in the variety of means by which, without destroy- 
ing or even disturbing our free-agency, He imparts relief 



104 



to our weary and thirsty minds ; and in this way. I would 
repeat, how every way acceptable were those letters to 
me, which, whilst they renewed my former affection for 
their writers, led me, I trust, according to my own doc- 
trine, to look beyond them, even to the God of all comfort. 

Although the coast of Lincolnshire did not, I believe, 
suffer equally with many other districts from the extraor- 
dinary heat and drought of the summer, yet the late rains 
have been very grateful to us, in reviving the general 
aspect of all surrounding objects, so that both animal and 
vegetable nature may be said, in the language of ancient 
metaphor, " to rejoice." Our fields are fast resuming 
their wonted verdure — the woods are beautiful — our flocks 
and herds feed with increased content — a few remaining 
flowers blow — and, as with gladdened hearts, many little 
warblers hail this second appearance of spring. For com- 
parable to that cheering and fruitful season is the present 
delightful scenery, which only seems to want the hearts of 
men well tuned, to praise, in the language of poetry and 
Scripture, the Author of so much excellency and beauty, 
saying, 

u These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Thyself 'how glorious, then I" 

" Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty!" 
No. 62. To Joseph Gurxey. 

1818, 10 mo, 27 — My late Yorkshire journey, espe- 
cially the Quarterly Meeting, does not afford me, in re- 
trospect, all the satisfaction I could wish. I believe my 
faith ought to have been so much strengthened as to have 
helped me more than it did in the discharge of my own 



105 



duty, instead of which I suffered slavish fear, or something 
no better, to prevail to my hurt ; and to the setting thee a 
very bad example, which I am desirous of thus acknow- 
ledging by way of reparation. I believe I had better have 
been simply communicative in the meeting of ministers 
and elders, as well as in that for worship on fourth-day 
morning, wherein thou discoveredst my backwardness. And 
although motive seemed just at the time to shield me from 
condemnation, I cannot now look back without feeling it ; 
and my only present relief consists in receiving the cor- 
rection ; for is it not a favour, even in the way of chastise- 
ment to be owned as a son ? 

Partly from physical, but chiefly from mental causes, I 
was induced the other day to observe one of those fasts 
which I have sometimes thought to be not only salubrious, 
but indispensable. Shall I describe it as consisting not so 
much in an abstinence from bodilv food, as a cessation 
from business, books, conversation, and as much as possible 
from the vain cogitations of a mind too prone to wander; 
which, however, in these seasons of vacuity and weariness, 
I find it less difficult to restrain than ordinary. As I thus 
sat by my own fireside, which was made solitary by the 
absence of my son in his agricultural, and my daughter in 
her domestic arrangements — whilst thus sitting with eves 
closed to the many great and good works that distin- 
guish the present eventful and auspicious day, and ears 
deaf to the songs of righteousness, which are now frequently 
heard as from the uttermost parts of the earth — with my 
own unstrung harp upon the willows — even in this 
profound retirement, this valley of Achor, I waited not 
entirely in vain, but found my mind renewed!}' bound to 
that little handful of individuals, to which I am not more 

f 5 



106 



united by birth and education than by judgment. O 
what I then felt, what do I often feel, for these my fel- 
low-professors, persuaded as I am that many of them, I 
sometimes fear the greater number, are as really captives 
spiritually, as ever the Jews were outwardly! But the 
thing that, in these times of humiliation and retirement, 
has of late afforded me the most satisfaction and encou- 
ragement, has been the near unity of spirit which I have 
felt with the ministers of this my people. And if one 
part of these has had a greater share in my exercises, it 
has been the few friends of this description in Norfolk, 
who, from causes which I cannot explain, and which I 
sometimes wonder at, really feel as bone of my bone. 

I do not forget our excellent advices to individuals of 
this class, one of which is to guard against a familiarity 
which tends to hurt. But I hope the engagement and 
exercise I have just been alluding to has a better source 
than selfishness, and a deeper one than imagination ; as it 
seems both to originate and centre in the fervent desire, 
that whilst many are doing excellently without the pale of 
our particular communion, we may be favoured to know, 
and faithful to perform, our respective duties in it ; that 
we may not only watch as on the walls of Zion, and 
build her palaces ; but that, on still more sacred ground, in 
the hallowed interior of her temple, we may be qualified 
to intercede for her scattered and captive children in this 
ancient, fervent, and pathetic language — " Spare thy 
people, 0 Lord ! and give not thine heritage to reproach." 

No. 63. To J. J. Gurney. 
1818, 12 mo. 22. — Perhaps we are never worse em- 



107 



ployed than whilst reasoning on things to which reason is 
incompetent : this is one of our most vulnerable quarters. 
Here I believe the enemy has often stolen in upon me ; 
here he has harassed, and I might almost without a figure 
say, harrowed, my soul. I therefore now find it conduce 
more to my peace and safety to be passive under all that 
I cannot comprehend or explain, feeling as I can feel, 
being what I can be ; either standing still or going for- 
ward, and in both cases, as much as in me lies, nothing 
fearing, nothing doubting. 

Still I hope it may not be departing from this rule into 
an unprofitable labyrinth, if on the interesting subject of 
spiritual attractions we suppose that, both in the church 
militant and triumphant, there may be such a thing as 
classification or degree, according to temperament, expe- 
rience, and other affinities ; a condition which I think 
may subsist without any interference with general service 
here, or universal harmony hereafter. 

Thus we find, even while struggling here below, there 
are seasons and circumstances in which all the varieties of 
Christian character, possessing diversities of gifts and 
under different administrations, are yet found to acknow- 
ledge the same Lord, and, as if incorporated into one 
body, can unite in ascribing glory to Him, can, as if with 
one voice, unite in the highest anthem sung in earth or 
heaven, " Thy will be done." And is all this either more 
or less than an evidence or foretaste of that felicity which 
shall receive its consummation in a world to come, where 
countless individuality and endless gradation shall make 
up the vast, the blessed assembly of saints and angels, and 
the spirits of just men made perfect. 



108 



No. 64. To J. J. Gurney, 

1819, 2 mo. 8. — Among those meditations on creation 
and its Author, which often lead me to wonder, and 
sometimes I hope to adore, a frequent and favourite one 
is on that kind of simple power, or power in the abstract, 
which is not only dispensed to man, the deputy lord of 
nature, but to every creature wherein is the breath of 
animal life, over that small portion of matter to which 
the faculty of a will is attached. So that by volition 
only this portion of matter is to a certain extent under 
the absolute control of free and voluntary determinations. 
Xor is the limitation of this extraordinary power less 
remarkable than its extension, beino; defined by a boundarv 
as complete and arbitrary as that of the ocean, to whose 
proud and restless waves it has been said, 4 ' Thus far shall 
ye go. and no further/' So whilst myself, my doer, or my 
horse, by a mode or agency as incomprehensible as it i- 
evident, can with the greatest facility move the whole or 
any part of our own bodies, we have no such power by 
simple volition over the smallest part of another animal, 
whether of our own or any other species. We could not 
in this way, light as it is, stir the wing of a fly. 

Xow for the tale, were it not for a further degree of the 
limitation just adverted to over that material cleg to which 
my own intellectual part is fettered, or had I the wings of 
a dove with skill to use them. I think I should not just 
now fly into the wilderness, but to Earlham, and might 
probably soon be placed by thy fireside instead of my own. 
As this style of writing cannot be taken for the notes of 
sorrow, so it may perhaps be as little suspected of any 



109 



alliance with sympathy; and yet if I am not deceived, 
sympathy, sweet and sacred, and ofttimes suffering sym- 
pathy is the remote cause of my present attraction towards 

thee and thine 

Having always thought the subject rather intricate, I 
have been afraid of entering into discussion on the religious 
instruction of youth, lest I should embarrass rather than 
illustrate it. It seems to me to consist of various parts, on 
which, for want of viewing them distinctly, it may be easy 
for us to misunderstand each other. We have also diver- 
sities of gifts from the same Spirit, and different members of 
the spiritual body have not the same office, of which, to 
myself, at least, my own case, is a remarkable proof; for 
whilst I entertain the most favourable opinion of many 
great and good works which are now going on in the 
world, I am so far from taking any decidedly active part 
in them, that as to any public step, by act or deed, further 
than a little money, I seem, to borrow a phrase, " hermeti- 
cally sealed," my spiritual solicitude being concentrated as 
it were on this one point,— the individual salvation of those 
who are members of our own religious Society, each of 
whom, notwithstanding the privilege of being born in a 
country denominated Christian, I consider to be born into 
the world as much the child of fallen nature as the Ice- 
lander or the Hindoo, and consequently to stand in equal 
need of convincement and conversion to their own nominal 
religion with those who have never heard its name. And 
to the great proportion of such as remain in an uncon- 
verted or unregenerate state, neglecting, despising, or for- 
saking the privileges of their birthright — to this it is that 
I think we must chiefly ascribe the great difference t there 
is between the present state of our Society, and that first 



4 



110 



period of it, wherein all were convinced, and, as appears by 
its records, most of them were faithful. 

Perhaps the exclusive anxiety which I feel to a much 
greater degree than I can express for my brethren and 
kinsfolk after the flesh, or by profession, may partly origi- 
nate in the recollection of the means by which, through 
grace, I have become what I am. When I was young 
there was much less of outward endeavours among Friends, 
at least those of my acquaintance, to instruct their youth, 
than, however deficient we may still appear, has been the 
case in later years. And though I and doubtless many 
others had parents who taught them to read and reverence 
the Scriptures, as well as occasionally to peruse the 
writings of our early Friends, here was about the whole of 
what might be called our religious education. Yet even 
in this way I remember to have acquired such a knowledge 
of the sacred Scriptures, and of the leading principles of 
my own profession, as during the course of a lamentable 
apostasy never forsook, though it could not reclaim me. 
How often, when by a course of vain speculation and dan- 
gerous experiment, I seemed to be exploring the depths of 
the fall — how often in this mad career has the secret ap- 
plication of a text arrested my progress, and shaken the 
sceptic in the scorners chair ! How often too, when act- 
ing inconsistently with my principles, have I been assured 
to a certainty, that these deviations were neither more nor 
less than denying Him before men, who, if I died in this 
state, would deny me before his Father and the holy 
angels ! and under a sense of the awful responsibility which 
I was thus, in violation of my knowledge, incurring, ho w often 
have I been ready to wish that I had never been born, or 
at any rate that I had not by birthright inherited so pure 



Ill 



and holy a Christian name as that which I bore, and 
almost daily dishonoured ! 

In addition to this, it was impossible for me to forget 
how unavailing were all outward endeavours towards 
bringing me out of this horrible pit, and that neither men 
nor books, even his instruments, had anything to do in 
plucking me at length as a brand out of the fire. Remem- 
bering this, I am perhaps the more fearful of infringing 
upon the office of that mighty Redeemer who thus merci- 
fully wrought for me with a high hand and an outstretched 
arm. This consideration may possibly make me more 
desirous that neither myself nor those whom I most ten- 
derly love may attempt anything out of the line of our re- 
spective appointments, nor in it, but so far as we may be 
required and assisted. 

9th. — If parents and guardians of youth were as assi- 
duous as I think the importance of the occasion demands 
in the work of their own salvation, a corresponding soli- 
citude would be felt for those committed to their trust, and 
a way would at times be opened, when the Scriptures 
were read, to explain and expound passages of them in the 
life of truth ; and in a degree of the same life also, would 
they, as ability was afforded, be concerned to impress the 
principles of their peculiar profession on the minds of their 
children or pupils. 

My son is gone into Yorkshire, so that I am left with 
only my young housekeeper Rachel. To her, on rainy 
days, evenings, and when thus engaged, I am a house 
companion. By way of reconciling this lively girl to re- 
tirement and herself, I am at convenient intervals reading 
to her Bates s Rural Philosophy. In this respectable per- 
formance, for such I think it, I happened, since laying 



112 



down my pen yesterday, to fall upon a passage which 
seems so connected with the principal subject of my letter, 
and is at the same time in such accordance with my senti- 
ments, that I am inclined to detain thee a little longer by 
its perusal. " Since the original apostasy, man is become 
not only guilty, but depraved ; and besides the pardon of 
his sins, needs the medicinal grace of Christ to heal the 
disorders of his nature, and enable him to exert his facul- 
ties in a due and spiritual manner, and thus to restore him 
to a proper use of himself. In the great business of edu- 
cation, of which we have been speaking, every method 
that can be employed without this divine aid to predispose 
and habitually to influence the heart of the pupil, how- 
ever it might serve to supply him with those qualities 
which would render him amiable and useful in society, 
would fail to provide him w T ith that virtue which must 
qualify him for heaven ; and every subsequent attempt to 
acquire this qualification after he came to act for himself, 
would, without the same divine succour, prove equally 
inefficacious." — Page 157, 158. 



No. 65. To Joseph Gurney. 

1819, 2 mo. 16. — I have of late been under so much 
secret exercise, as to have but little to spare for others in 
the general, to which a long epistle to thy dear nephew at 
Earlham forms an exception. But commonly I have had 
enough to do to hold fast, craving patience, perseverance, 
and light upon an obscure and discouraging path. Help 
me, if thou canst, to desire these blessings. 0 these in- 
ward crucifixions ! these deaths oft ! yet what should I be 
without them ? and I hope I am on the whole more de- 



113 

sirous of rightly passing through such baptisms of the will 
unto death, than to be exempt from them : but I can hardl} r 
tell how this is. One thing, I believe, that were it not 
for gracious help in times of extremity, my danger would 
be extreme. But I am now enjoying a truly quiet morn- 
ing, though in an every way outwardly dark and cloudy 
day, which I esteem a great favour. 0 the refuge from 
inward storm, what an inestimable, what an unspeakable 
privilege ! 

No. 66. To J. J. Gurney. 

1819, 5 mo. 6. — Yesterday was rather distinguished in my 
spiritual annals by a poverty and a pressure, at which had 
it been entirely new, I might well have been alarmed, or 
could I have believed, that it depended altogether on 
myself, I ought certainly to have been ashamed. But un- 
easy as it felt to me, perhaps it might be preparative to my 
receiving with a better understanding, and probably with 
increased satisfaction, the conviction which it wrought : — 
that the remnant among professing Christians in all ages, 
and as applied to our little Society, the remnant of this 
residue, who have been desirous of endeavouring — alas ! 
for the feebleness of execution — to live nearest to their Lord, 
in an entire dedication of heart, and unreserved surrender 
of their wills to his Divine will : these have always been 
a spiritually poor and tried number, who on comparing 
themselves not only with the worst of mankind, but with 
a numerous class of ordinary believers, under various 
names, who go on careering, as it were, in the paths of 
virtue, and who seem nearly prepared at all times to sing 
the songs of Sion, — such they might address with some 



114 



propriety in the language of an eminent apostle, descriptive 
of that narrowest part of the narrow way, in which him- 
self and a few others, for few I must suppose them, were 
concerned to walk ; see 1 Cor. iv. 9 — 13. Well, to this 
cross, as I generally find it the best way under every humi- 
liation, it seemed to be the task of yesterday to bring my 
mind, and say Amen, not counting my life (especially the 
life of my will) dear unto myself, if so be I may finish my 
course with joy, &c. 



No. 67. To J. J. Gurney. 

1819, 6 mo. 23.— 1 Whilst I congra- 
tulate this dedicated couple on their victory, how tenderly 
do I pity them ! so much so, that I have even prayed for 
them, in that secret retirement, wherein I have been wont to 
put up petitions to the throne of grace ; and on various occa- 
sions, to pour forth libations of tears, not to an idol, but to 
the true and living God. I have said, on various occasions, 
for though they have but one issue, how many are the 
sources of our tears ! many are the causes, which so oppress 
and overcharge the heart, as to compel it to seek relief in 
this way. Joy, grief, sympathy, suffering, everything can 
weep but despair : it only precludes this last resource of 
weariness or affliction, turns heaven to brass, and earth to 
iron ; and were it not for the torture of every nerve, might 
be said to petrify its unhappy victims. 0 thou bottomless, 
thou horrible pit ! how in thy dark bosom is every evil 
found ! from thy dread bourn how every good retreats ! in 
attempting to portray thee, expression becomes lame, and 
description beggared. 



115 



I would now just say, that after all I have remarked 

about dear , and his wife, and much as I feel that 

I love them, I mean no compliment to mere human nature, 
nor have any view of improperly exalting one above an- 
other. Of them, or any other of my beloved friends, I 
would say with a deeply tried and experienced apostle, 
" God forbid that I," or that they " should glory, save in 
the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is 
crucified unto me, and I unto the world." Rather may we 
be able also to adopt the language of the same inspired 
writer : " For our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our 
conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with 
fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our 
conversation in the world." 

Having, in a manner of which I consider myself very un- 
worthy, been permitted to share in thy aboundings, I am 
quite disposed, should circumstances call for it, to travel 
with thee in another direction. For as it has sometimes 
happened, so it may happen again, even those who are 
endeavouring faithfully to follow Christ, may not only sub- 
ject themselves to the laugh and the frown of the worst of 
mankind, but by some of their movements may even 
excite the apprehensions of those who are engaged in the 
same cause with themselves ; but as all endeavour to keep 
their respective and individual places, and as patience and 
humility are abode under, I believe a right understanding 
of each other will generally be come to at last. Thus, as 
the sun dispels the fogs of our material world, so where all 
mean well, I apprehend will the light of truth, if sought 
after and waited for, scatter the perplexity, which perhaps 
for the trial of faith and other virtues, may for a season be 
permitted to rest as on the valley of intellectual vision. 



116 



No. 68. To Joseph Gurney. 

1819, 7 m o. 3. — I thought our parting opportunity at 
Mildred's Court was even more than supporting, it was 
cheering ; and might seem to make up for much that, as in- 
dividuals in the course of the previous meetings, and the 
various exercises attending them, we might have gone 
through. The feeling was precious, and I thought had a 
tendency to renew and strengthen the bonds not only of 
public but of private union ; and it left a very sweet con- 
firmation on my mind, which is not yet dissipated, of the 
reciprocal disinterestedness and sincerity of our friendship, 
and may I add of its value also at particular seasons. For 
though we may sometimes think that nothing temporal 
can be dearer to us than our children, and we are sensible 
too of the high worth of our junior friends ; still these are 
all the companions of another day, and however tenderly 
disposed towards us, cannot in all cases feel, as true con- 
temporaries may feel one for another. They have not like 
these had time to hear and see the same things, their ex- 
perience has not led them through the same paths — paths 
which, however erratic, dangerous, or bewildering they may 
sometimes have been, afford, on retrospect in life's declining 
day to the few remaining fellow-travellers, a social and 
sympathetic fellow-feeling, that perhaps nothing else could 
give, and which makes them very dear to each other in 
times of weakness or suffering. 

. . . . I believe, that a the meekness and gentleness 
of Christ" in others, at least, may be congenial to the tem- 
perament of my own mind. Thunder and storm have, from 
very early life, generally terrified and distracted me, whilst 



117 



the softer descending^ of the dew of Iiermon have some- 
times dissolved that in me which the tempests of Mount 
Sinai seemed only to paralyze. Yet doubtless these may 
sometimes, and in some cases, be the proper medium of 
divine communication. But how condescending is the 
goodness, and how incomprehensible the wisdom of the 
Most High, in accommodating the creatures, which He has 
formed, according to their various capacities and characters, 
which He alone fully knows ! Blessed be his name ! 

No. 69. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1819, 10 mo. 25. — I have been much concerned to hear 
of Priscilla's late illness, but from what thou hast said, I 
hope she may be restored to her friends, and that not only 
her mortal body may recover its former strength and 
activity, but that her immortal mind may, through 
the remainder of her pilgrimage, be preserved firm on the 
sure foundation and Rock of Ages ; so that should a degree 
of reduction and suffering be allotted her, in time, whereof 
minds of a higher tone only are capable, she may through 
an endless eternity enjoy a portion of felicity, to which 
perhaps spirits of a certain order only may be commen- 
surate. This view, though it may seem rather speculative, 
is I hope innocent, as I believe that in heaven there will be 
neither complaining nor want ; but that every vessel will 
be filled to its utmost capacity, and that all, both small and 
great, will unite in one universal Halleluiah of gratitude, 
thanksgiving, and praise. 

Thou tellst me, that thou hast need of deep and abiding 
humiliation ; this I believe, whether they know it or not, is 



118 



the case of every son and daughter of Adam, though 
unhappily it does not generally appear to be so understood, 
at least not acted upon. To the thoroughly awakened 
mind, I should think nothing can be more obvious, as in 
this low valley it is that we not only find a door of hope, 
but discern the path of duty, and receive fresh commission 
and ability to walk therein. 

No. 70. To J. J. Gurney. 

1819, 12mo. 29. — The tone of my mind is I think 
somewhat improved, insomuch that though not entirely 
free from solicitude, — for who can sleep on a mast? — I am in 
possession of perhaps as great equanimity of feeling as may 
reasonably be expected in a state wherein the wind fre- 
quently blows strong, and is often shifting its quarters, or, 
to speak more intelligibly, where fears within and fightings 
or perplexing circumstances without, are every now and 
then assailing us. 

I have often thought of, but I believe never yet noticed, 
a passage in each of thy two last letters to me. The first 
arising out of an intimacy thou hadst then lately formed 
with E. H., whose mind thou hast described as just open- 
ing to religion, from whence thou hast found occasion on 
one hand to rejoice at the progress of good in "middle, 
high, and low," and on the other to lament the operation 
of an opposite principle, in a great proportion of mankind, 
concluding with the expression of an earnest desire that all 
might be brought to the Eedeemer. I trust I am thy 
companion in each of these feelings. 

The other particular to which I am inclined to allude is 
the more literal interpretation, corresponding with thy own 



]19 



experience, which thou art disposed to give to the seventh 
chapter of Romans, than perhaps may even by Friends be 
generally supposed to belong to it : here we are agreed 
also. To which I would add the appalling description of 
the proceeds of the heart of man, as detailed by our 
Saviour, Mark, vii. 21, 22, 23, and Luke, vi. 45, and then 
I think we have a true and complete picture of human 
nature, as derived from the fallen state of our first parents, 
— a picture which I think our system-builders might have 
contemplated to as much advantage without first invent- 
ing the new, and as it appears to me, superfluous name of 
original sin. This sort of coinage I am never very fond 
of, preferring the plain, unsophisticated language of Scrip- 
ture. And as I think we have on the subject before us 
enough of obvious terms and obvious meaning to extort 
from us the exclamation, " 0 Adam ! Adam ! what hast 
thou done V so on the other hand, " clinging close," as thou 
hast aptly said, to the redeeming principle of life in Christ 
Jesus, we shall find cause to adopt this triumphant lan- 
guage of the apostle, " Thanks be to God for his un- 
speakable gift." 

Though I am neither casuist nor disputant, yet I think 
it is desirable that we should have a correct, and then no 
matter how concise a view of the ground we occupy in this 
our state of probation. In order to obtain such a view, 
perhaps it may be needful both to reconnoitre the number 
and strength of our enemies, as well as to fathom the 
extent of our own weakness and corruption, seeing that 
out of these depths of inquiry and examination the most 
availing cries for deliverance have often ascended to the 
throne of grace. 

Not that I think all are alike assaulted by the common 



120 



adversary, or that we are equally plunged into the mire 
and clay of sensual and selfish corruption. We may sin, 
and come very far short of the glory of God, and thereby 
have ample cause for humiliation and repentance, without 
the actual commission of every crime into which some of 
our fellow-creatures are found unhappily to fall. Still I 
believe every one who attentively observes what passes 
within him and without him, I mean his own propensities, 
and the positive, unqualified wickedness, which among 
high and low, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, abound 
in the world, will find a full illustration and living com- 
ment on the Scriptures to which we have alluded, and 
perhaps some justification of the conclusions we have 
drawn from them. 

And now, my dear friend, let us who profess to believe 
in the saving grace and truth which comes by Jesus 
Christ, — the second Adam — the Lord from heaven — let 
us, who make this profession, close our somewhat cheerless 
theme with a renewed effort to build each other up in our 
most holy faith, by recurring again to the solemn, yet 
joyous ascription, " Thanks be to God for his unspeakable 
gift," not only now, but for ever and ever. Amen. 

I have lately been to my own Quarterly Meeting, which, 
perhaps partly from natural and partly from other causes, 
I approached under some discouragement ; but as on some 
similar occasions, I returned well satisfied with having 
been there. So true it is, that it remains to be good even 
for the mry few to endeavour to assemble together for 
religious purposes ; as the bonds of unity and fellowship 
are thereby strengthened, and a degree of renewed ability 
frequently vouchsafed to hold on our way, if not with con- 
tinual rejoicing, at least without daring to murmur or 



121 



repine, seeing that our sufferings are deserved, and our en- 
joyments altogether unmerited. The last is a sentiment 
with which I have been long, and perhaps I might say 
deeply impressed. There seems to be a harmony in it 
which reconciles us not only to the dispensations, but to 
the attributes of the Deity, with every one of which as the 
soul approaches perfection she becomes increasingly be- 
lieving, and increasingly enamoured. She can then sing- 
not only of wisdom, power, and goodness, but of justice 
also : " Yea, in the way of thy judgments, 0 Lord, have 
we waited for Thee/' (Isaiah, xxvi. 8.) 

No. 71. To J. J. GURNEY. 

1820, 1 mo. 9. — I have often thought of Norwich since I 
left it, especially of thy dear uncle and aunt, who were then 
under much solicitude, occasioned by the recent afflictions 
of divers of their near connexions^ the circle of which is 
so extensive, and its visitations of sorrow for the last few 
years so frequent, as must, I have thought, keep their 
sympathy in almost unremitting exercise. It is sometimes 
said that repeated strokes harden the heart, and that 
therefore the feelings of old folks are obtuse : I would say, 
or soften it, and therefore render them more acute ; for 
strange as it may seem, it is yet not improbable that 
these opposite effects are by similar causes produced on 
different subjects. I would just remark that under every 
trial, whether new, or such as we have formerly known, 
there is not perhaps a better practical lesson than this, to 
let patience have its perfect work. Knowing the value of 
this lesson, and by long experience the need I have of it, 



122 



perhaps I may without boasting add, " herein do I exer- 
cise myself daily " with what success it does not become 
me to say — indeed I cannot tell — but have much reason- 
able ground for distrust. 

I pity thy dear brother and his wife on account 
of their winterly and hazardous voyage to Ireland, on 
which thou hast made some valuable observations on the 
excellence and advantage of a firm trust in God. It is in- 
deed an excellent thing thus to trust in Him at all times, 
and I believe a thing not entirely at our command, but 
rather a blessing upon our endeavours after it. In thus 
striving to support a faith too apt to waver, we are some- 
times equally delighted and encouraged, by pursuing the 
ideas of omniscience, omnipotence, and goodness to the 
extent of our limited faculties for comprehending them. 
What security there appears in the view thus afforded of 
Divine protection, in contemplating the exercise of attri- 
butes which at once incline to all that is wise, great, and 
benevolent, with power to execute the wondrous, the mag- 
nificent designs, volition and act inseparably connected, — 
the numbering our hairs and the caring for sparrows, — the 
removing of mountains and the support of innumerable 
worlds, — all performed with greater ease than the most 
skilful musician can modulate the tones of his instru- 
ment ! 

It were difficult to imagine that after being helped thus 
to believe— that after such a delectable vision, we should ever 
again be harassed with doubt or fear, did we not know 
that poor human nature, amongst its many other defects, 
often acts as a preponderating weight against itself, so that 
were it not for the counteraction of that influence which is 
appropriately denominated an arm underneath, and a hedge 



123 



round about us, it were impossible to determine whither in 
our wanderings we might stray, or in our heights we might 
fly, or where in our descents we might stop. But thanks 
be to Him who has not only beheld, but preserved us 
through many difficulties and dangers hitherto ! Let us 
endeavour more and more to cast all our care upon Him, in 
the unshaken trust, that as we thus strive to please and to 
serve Him, He will graciously continue to save and to 
deliver us. 

10th. — The above, with very little variation of lan 
guage, was intended for thee a month ago : since which 
some variety of circumstance, and considerable vicissitude 
of feeling, have enabled me to enter more sensibly than 
perhaps I could then have done, into that particular state 
of mind which thou hast described by the expressions 
" Vision dark — Faith weak — Fears many." This surely 
is the time of Jacob's trouble ; but here again, how are we 
relieved by a consideration of the Divine attribute of mercy, 
and supported by the consoling language of Scripture, that 
even from the time of Jacob's trouble, he shall be saved ! 
(Jerem. xxx. 7.) 

No. 72. To Richard Cockin. 

1820, 1 mo. 11. — For many months past I have been 
so shut up, or so closely occupied by inward exercise on 
I one account or other, as to render me less communicative 
than usual, even towards that small circle of beloved cor- 
respondents, with whom I have been the most accustomed 
now and then to exchange a letter. This state of my 
mind has been attended with some fears, indeed it is an 
occasion of frequent solicitude lest I should fall into a state 

G 2 



124 



of supiaeness, or become a negligent occupier of the talent 
committed to me. 

There are however two circumstance? which afford me 
some relief. One is a full conviction that of ourselves 
merely, and in our own time and way, we can do very little 
towards each other's spiritual comfort or benefit, and that 
therefore when silence is enjoined us, it is the safest for us 
to abide in it. The other still more encourao-ino; consider- 
ation is a consciousness that however feeble or suspended 
the expression of my feelings may have been, still I am not 
destitute of feeling ; but that on the contrary, for the cri- 
tical situation of our beloved country, the low state in 
many respects of our dear religious Society, my own indi- 
vidual responsibilities as a parent and as a Christian, — for 
each and all of these, I have according to my capacity or 
measure, been much concerned. Out of this very concern 
a hope arises of not being quite insensible or dead, seeing 
that according to a well-known observation, c< whilst there 
is pain there is life." And if such be the case, though 
this hidden spark of life should never, from the various 
weights that oppress it, shine forth with much effulgence, 
or rise into great dominion, yet it may possibly emerge in 
some degree from its present depths of obscurity. Be this 
as it may, there is one spot whereon, whether the storm 
makes sailing dangerous or the calm renders it impracti- 
cable, I seldom cast anchor in vain ; I mean in the endea- 
vour not to seek great things, either spiritual or temporal, 
for myself. And yet even here, such is our weakness, and 
such are the snares that are laid for it, that without the 
renewed and quickening energy of Divine wisdom and 
power, we may even in the quiet and pleasant harbour of 
humble resignation itself, become entangled or arrested in 



125 



our course, so as to fall short of fighting the good fight of 
faith, or running with patience the race which heavenly 
illumination, and that only, can from time to time discover, 
or in scriptural expression, set before us. 

Under the discouragements which the Christian meets 
with both from within and without, and which I apprehend 
under one form or another must have been his companion 
in every age of the church, the discovery of a kindred 
mind must always have been, as it now is, a very allevi- 
ating and cheering circumstance ; which more than most 
other things confirms us in the hope that notwithstanding 
all that through our declension has befallen us, we are not 
yet become a people forsaken of their God, but that such 
among us who truly fear Him are, as their forefathers were, 
truly precious in his sight, and by the spirit of his Son, are 
also like them made dear one unto another. 

How sweetly is the badge of discipleship, to which thou 
hast alluded, still found to characterize and unite indivi- 
duals of similar experience, and how cementing its influ- 
ence, when like a garment of fellowship and a zone of con- 
cord it pervades and encircles those solemn assemblies, 
convened it is true for the more immediate services of our 
own Society, but extending, may it not be hoped, through 
the medium of this universal love, a salubrious influence to 
the whole family of mankind ! and here I would just ob- 
serve, that our Yearly Meetings of later years, and espe- 
cially at their close, have seemed to me to be remarkably 
distinguished by the prevalence and circulation of that 
charity which I have faintly attempted to describe. 



126 



No. 73. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1820, 1 mo. 22. — We are said to be " creatures of 
habit;" perhaps it is partly owing to this, having been 
used to little else, that I feel so much interest for the sup- 
port and revival of small meetings. I forbear to particu- 
larize, because we have only to look around us, and these 
instances, like the shades of brighter days, will start up in 
multitudinous vision ; not however visionary, but real 
remnants of once different things. They must entirely 
fall, unless the rising generation so lay it to heart, as like 
the Ezras and Xehemiahs of old, to arise and build not only 
their own houses, but the breaches in the walls and palaces 
of spiritual Jerusalem. Do not think me desponding. I 
know the worth of many individuals in very solitary situ- 
ations, I have also a high opinion of the capacities and 
resources of my voiinger brethren and sisters : but I must 
confess that I long to see, before my departure from this 
scene of visible things, a more decided dedication of their 
powers to the service of Him who gave them, and to the 
support of a Society which, without invidious comparison, 
I am bold to call, as to its principles, the first in the world; 
and were there a more general acting up to these principles 
by those who profess them, I am also bold to say, the 
world, though now incredulous, " should know it too." 

I am just now confined pretty much to the house by 
small ailments, and the severity of the weather. In the 
latter we have been presented with a phenomenon of 
changes, extraordinary even in this changeful climate. 
Within the last three or four days rapid thaw — intense 
frost — fail* and calm — snowing and bio whig — and this day 



127 



cold, but beautifully bright and clear ; all this in less time 
than I ever remember. On fourth- day last, in my way to 
meeting, I was gratified by the sound, most unusual in a 
fen, of fine cascades, clear as the water of Helicon, (do not 
smile as thinking me extravagant,) running from the surface 
of our pastures, which were too hard beneath to absorb 
them, into the ditches which make at once our drains and 
our fences. To-day, the very fields which then were almost 
a sheet of water, interspersed with some verdure, are again 
thickly covered with the white mantle, and from each of 
my windows I have the prettiest sight of self-made snow- 
balls, in considerable numbers, that I ever beheld, formed by 
the stormy wind of yesterday, and the peculiar tempera- 
ture of the air. What a wonderful display is this, and on 
how magnificent a scale, of the works of Him who is per- 
fect in wisdom and power ! It may not only remind us 
of, but illustrate the solemn interrogatories put to poor 
Job, producing a similar acknowledgment to his. u I 
know," said he to the Lord, " that Thou canst do every 
thing ; and that no thought can be withholden from Thee." 

No. 74. To Jane Gurney. 

1820, 2 mo. 19. — How t precious is that unity of spirit 
which constitutes Christian fellowship ! at a time, too, 
when many circumstances of ours are so analogous to 
those of the ancient Jewish Israel, that some in the present 
day, who are no prophets themselves, can scarcely peruse 
the records of those who were, without a decree of fearful 
apprehension. I would not excite needless alarm. I 
know there is much that is valuable yet left among us, 
much also of declension, and consequent desolation : I am, 



128 



however, no prophet, and I think those who are should be 
careful in the exercise of their gift. Thou wilt therefore, 
I hope, preserve an equal mind, endeavouring to wait 
patiently and resignedly for whatever may be permitted to 
happen. 

20th. — For some hours this morning I have been intro- 
duced into such a new communion with you in the love, 
and fear, and mercy of our God, as equally excites my 
wonder and my praise ; and it seems as if it would be an 
act of manifold injustice to withhold the knowledge of it 
from you. In this situation, so different from what we 
probably each of us often pass through, I have thought 
myself the most favoured of men. And why ? Because 
the most unworthy ! — at least more so than any of my 
fellow-mortals of whose state I have any knowledge or 
conception ; and this view of ourselves is sufficient for the 
purposes of individual humiliation and gratitude. Here 
we may perceive what a privilege it is, that, without con- 
fusion or interference, thousands may be under all these 
circumstances at the same moment of time, enjoying the 
same bounty of their Creator, exercising the same self- 
abasedness before Him, and offering the same incense of 
adoration and praise ; or will it be a needless addition by 
one comprehensive expression to say, trembling and re- 
joicing in the beams of the Sun of righteousness ? 

Well, in the bonds of this love, in the feeling of this 
creaturely reduction, and at the foot of this altar, I again 
bid you affectionately farewell. 



129 



No. 7o. To Ann Capper. 

1820, 9 mo. 9. — Being on the domestic subject, I am 
inclined to acquaint thee with an incident which occurred 
to me lately. At our meeting on fourth-day last, which 
is usually very small, it so happened that myself, J. R., 
and L. made up the whole of it; when a little before 
the conclusion I thought it safe for me to tell them how 
much I had been desiring that they, my dear children by 
nature, might become the Lord's children by adoption ; 
that so, when we should no longer assemble together as we 
then did, when I should sleep with my fathers, and be 
gathered to the house appointed for all living, they might 
be preserved wherever they go, and blessed in whatsoever 
they do. On rising from my seat to depart, I found 
myself so much affected, that, letting my children pass on 
before me, * like one formerly, I almost unconsciously 
turned my face to the wall, and poured out a secret liba- 
tion to the God of the spirits of all flesh. 

No. 76. To Sarah Squire. 

1821, 5 mo. 10. — -A query has offered itself to my con- 
sideration, attended with a willingness to submit it to 
thine ; and this is, whether the time may not be nearly 
arrived for thee to quit thy hold, in great measure, even 
on religious friendship, though it may heretofore have been 
useful to thee, and try to walk by faith alone ; or in other, 
and perhaps more intelligible expressions, to cease from 
looking much even towards those whom thou mayst be 
ready to view as instructors and fathers, that by thus 

g 5 



130 



withdrawing thy attention from everything outward, thou 
mayst attend more closely and singly to thy own steps. 
For as spiritual gifts, even gifts in the ministry, are diverse, 
and their operation various, though all from the " workings 
of the same Spirit, dividing to every man severally as He 
will so, after all the help which, in a state of compara- 
tive infancy, we may he permitted to derive from instru- 
mental sources, it is from this Spirit alone that our indi- 
vidual duty can be discovered, and adequate assistance 
received for the acceptable performance of it, 

I say this, my valued friend, not with the coldness of a 
critic or the severity of a censor, but, I trust, with the 
tender solicitude of one who not only remembers well the 
days of his own childhood, with " the fears and fightings" 
attendant on his early steps, but who still ofttimes finds 
abundant cause to query with the apostle, " who is weak, 
and I am not weak V For, alas ! what are the oldest and 
most knowing of us, but, in common w T ith our younger 
brethren and sisters, earthen vessels, w^herein, through 
adorable condescension, a divine gift or treasure is de- 
posited, that " the excellency of the power may be of 
God, and not of us?" And as certainly as a vessel is dis- 
tinct from that which it contains, so certainly are we, as 
men, distinct from " the new wine of the kingdom," 
wherewith, for the glory of the Giver, and the good of our 
fellow-creatures, we may be at times, to our own humbling 
admiration, alternately emptied and filled. 

If on my own account, no less than on thine, there be 
at the present juncture one truth that weighs with me 
more than another, it is this — the danger of looking out- 
ward, and leaning too much to my own understanding, by 
which I have suffered deeply in days that are past, and 



131 



from which I am not even yet wholly free, though I well 
know that the necessary tendency of such a practice is 
either to elate or depress the mind too much, and thereby 
to keep it in a state of fluctuation and instability, unfavour- 
able for distinctly hearing the still small voice of the true 
Shepherd. May we, therefore, without lessening our love 
for the brethren, or neglecting our duty in the church, (for 
I believe that, though difficult, this is practicable,) cease 
from all unprofitable dependence either on ourselves or on 
each other, leaning with increasing confidence on that all- 
sufficient arm, whereon archangels lean. 



No. 77- To Hannah C. Backhouse. 

1821, 5 mo, 27. — In the silence and solitude of a 
nocturnal hour, wherein pain would not allow me to rest, 
and when the waves of mental conflict ran so high, that it 
almost seemed as if the end of all things were at hand, and 
that instead of gently descending in peace, I were about to 
be hurried as by the force of an irresistible cataract, into 
an unknown world — in the midst of this tumult of 
distress it occurred to me, that let the probability or the 
reality of the thing be what it might, I could do nothing 
to prevent it, and that therefore to resign myself to the 
event was the only proper alternative. I shortly after got 
a little sleep, when on awaking such was the change, that 
I could compare it to nothing so fitly as to that of the lion, 
who goeth about seeking whom he may devour or betray, 
(and who, when permitted, probably seldom fails to avail 
himself of our infirmities, in the season of extraordinarv 
trial or weakness,) being commanded to his den, whereby 
my mind was restored to such tranquillity, and my faith 



132 



and hope were so renewed, that although other pains did 
not immediately leave me, yet they seemed indeed like 
those light afflictions, which were not only to be endured, 
but almost to be enjoyed. 

I mention this to show the benefit of holy resignation, 
especially in times of the greatest suffering, into which I be- 
lieve, by the subtlety of our unwearied adversary, tempta- 
tion is sometimes infused ; hoping that by a knowledge 
of how it has fared with one, and doubtless with many 
others of thy brethren and sisters, who are in the world, 
thou mayst be convinced, that in all thy afflictions, multi- 
plied and varied as of late they have^been, no new thing 
has happened unto thee. 

Indeed this path of many tribulations, is so far from 
being a new one, that it seems on the contrarv to be the 
high road, by which, since the fall of Adam, the spiritual 
traveller has been conducted to happiness and to glory. 
Accordingly, we cannot read far in the Scriptures without 
having our attention turned towards it, with suitable 
instructions, how to conduct ourselves, and journey forward 
therein. Of these directions, the leading one seems to be, 
a resigning all that we have, and all that we are, — our 
own lives not excepted — into the hand of Him who gave 
us them all. 

It appears, even at this time of the day, little short of 
marvellous to me when I consider, or rather when I feel, 
how many baptisms are necessary, not only to bring many 
of us to this point of entire surrender, but to keep us there, 
so that in the simplicity of little children, and in foolish- 
ness to our own wisdom, we may be willing to follow the 
Lamb whithersoever He leadeth, into doing, suffering, or 
rejoicing. And however difficult or impossible this attain- 



133 



ment may be, by the exertion of merely human powers, 
yet as we set it up for our mark, keep it constantly in 
view, pray for it, and press after it, I trust we shall receive 
adequate assistance in every needful time, and that ulti- 
mately we shall be made more than conquerors through 
Him that hath loved us ; — for the Lamb and his followers, 
shall have the victory 

I hope there is not a word in this letter that can be con- 
strued into discouragement, or that can make the way of 
truth appear a hard or a gloomy one : this would indeed 
be very foreign to my intention. The ways of the Lord 
still remain to be pleasantness, and his paths peace to the 
obedient soul • and though many and diversified may be 
the trials of the righteous, yet surely deliverance out of 
them all is ample compensation even in this life, to say 
nothing of the glory which shall hereafter be revealed, 

If it may tend more unequivocally to show that to im- 
part strength and comfort, without any mixture of alloy, is 
the only motive for my thus greeting thee, suffer me to 
turn thy attention to the following texts, by which I have 
sometimes been consoled and refreshed. " Though I walk 
in the midst of trouble, Thou wilt revive me." " In the 
multitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight 
my soul." " Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul ! and 
why art thou disquieted within me ? Hope in God, for I 
shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my counte- 
nance and my God." 

Desiring that the holy arm of our Heavenly Father 
may be underneath as thy unfailing support, I remain thy 
sincerely affectionate friend. 



134 



No. 78. To Sarah Squire. 

1821, 7 mo. 1. — Notwithstanding what I. have said in a 
former letter, about being weaned from too much reliance 
on the aids of friendship, yet I am too well acquainted 
with their value to despise them, having often through them 
received both instruction and encouragement ; and I believe 
that now, as formerly, it is acceptable in the sight of our 
gracious Creator, that such as fear Him should occasionally 
converse, and otherwise commune together. Yet there are 
times, wherein, as respects the church or our families, we 
clearly perceive that unless the Lord build the city, they 
labour in vain who build it ; and at other seasons we 
anxiously feel concerning ourselves, that if the Lord help 
us not as our Preserver under trial, and as our Guide 
in the path of duty — if in both cases, He help us not, vain 
indeed is the help of man. And as this experience rather 
increases than weakens our fellow-feeling for human in- 
firmity, I believe we must do as well as we can, as to the 
expression of it. When we are inclined and enabled to do 
so, let us not withhold more than is meet ; and when 
silence seems imposed both on tongue and pen, let us sub- 
mit to the humiliation. 



No. 79. To J. J. Gurney. 

1821, 7 mo. 20. — "From the uttermost part of the earth 
have we heard songs, even glory to the righteous ; but I 
said, My leanness, my leanness, woe unto me !" &c. This 
portion of Scripture has been raised in my remembrance 



135 



by the comfortable account thou hast given me of certain 
Quarterly Meetings, followed by the inquiry, how we 
fared in Lincolnshire ? "Wilt thou accept both as a general 
and individual answer, Quite as well as we deserved, 
though perhaps not so richly as some of us, when patience 
is ready to fail, may desire. But as thou hast well ob- 
served, it ought to revive us to hear the sound of such 
things ; and it really is cheering to hearts not dead 
to joy, though not very prone to rejoice, to receive 
glad tidings of good from any quarter or any cause. 

I am "resettled," after considerable wandering, at peace- 
ful Gedney, which truly deserves thy epithet of peaceful, 
whatever mental causes may prevent or interrupt its prof- 
fered quiet. I am, however, pleased, and I think at times 
thankful for having a lodge in this wilderness — alias, in 
these fens of Lincolnshire, where I can rest a weary head 
and faint heart, especially on distinguished occasions of il- 
lumination nights and coronation days ; and I perhaps never 
enjoyed this privilege more than at the present juncture, 
from having just heard of the dissipation which prevailed 
at a neighbouring town yesterday, where, as may be ap- 
prehended of many other places and circumstances, 
earthly glory was tarnished by almost every species of 
vice. 

No. 80. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1821, 10 77io, 1. — As it comes in easily, without study 
or constraint, I will just give thee my objection, in few 
words, to a practice which I fear prevails too much in 
circles with which thou art familiar, and wherein I am 
sometimes allowed to peep : I mean that of perverting and 



136 



confounding language^ as in the case of substituting the 
word proud for phased. I always dislike it ; but when I 
hear it from those who ought to know better, I am grieved, 
my zeal is kindled, and I am almost angry, yet I hope 
without sin. Were I as bold with the tongue as the pen, 
I could freely tell them that all pride is of the devil, there- 
fore let him take his own, for what have Christians to do 
either with him or his works ? If what they say be true, 
they ought to be ashamed rather than boasting ; and if it 
be not true, they are then adding the sin of falsehood to a 
habit of absurdity. Am I not very warm ? 

Thou art surely enough acquainted with Gedney to 
know, that as it respects meetings and the residence of 
Friends, it is solitary, and situated on a kind of isthmus, 
with the sea on the E. and N.E.; whilst on the S.W, 
towards Northampton and Rutland, there lies a con- 
siderable tract of country, over which we, as a religious 
society, are probably but little known. Thus circum- 
stanced, it happens that, in passing from S. to N., or 
in the opposite course, more of our friends on Gospel mis- 
sions call upon us than might else be the case, whilst 
others of them, from mere kindness perhaps, pitying our 
loneliness, come purposely to visit us. As we have neither 
rocks nor mountains, woods nor waterfalls, hot springs 
nor scarcely cold ones, it might seem surprising that 
such company should rather increase upon us : perhaps 
by the aid of a little superstition, it might be considered in 
one way portentous : — that my dear friends, some of 
them at least, thinking it probable that they might not 
find me much longer at the place which has long known 
me, have had a mind to take another look, possibly a 
farewell. Well, be it so ; for as the solemn prospect rather 



137 



calms than disquiets my spirit, I cannot deem it inauspi- 
cious, and am therefore more disposed to hail than to shun 
the omen. 

Shouldst thou inquire why, seeing I am surrounded and 
supported by children whom, without unreasonable par- 
tiality, I perhaps may be allowed to consider at par, and 
favoured with friends who, there is good ground for be- 
lieving, are much above it, why then, mayst thou ask, 
should I appear so indifferent, not to say weary of life ? 
The first part of my answer must be taken from that por- 
tion of myself which I hope to put off with mortality, and 
for the rest consult the preacher Solomon, in his Ecclesi- 
astes ; read also, if thou think it worth while, an excellent 
poem by Samuel Johnson, entitled, " The Vanity of Hu- 
man Wishes and one, in my opinion, not less merito- 
rious, in a little volume of verses by Jane Taylor, to which 
she has given the name of " Experience." And should 
books fail to show thee, thou must wait until time and its 
revolutions shall demonstrably prove, and this I think 
they cannot fail to do, both the reasonableness and the 
propriety of my not only waiting, but sometimes looking, — 
may it be with patience and resignation ! — for the last and 
greatest change. 

By indulging in a strain so serious, I am far from 
meaning to put thee out of love with life, or its legitimate 
concerns, nor even with such of its enjoyments as are 
suitable to thy age and circumstances. At the same time, 
I am not willing to think myself so injudicious as the 
world in its wisdom might deem me, for thus introducing 
a grave subject, even to one who, although in the prime of 
his days, is somewhat relaxed both in health and in nerve ; 
for my opinion is, that a near and frequent view of what it 



138 



concerns ns the most to know, the ground we really occupy- 
in our present state of existence, cannot possibly hurt us ; 
but rather, as is said of Boreas and the oak, whilst it 
shakes the branches it will strengthen the root, making 
the arms more strong and sturdy, though it may lower its 
towering head. 

Xo. 81. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1821, 12 mo. 29. — Strange as it may seem, this word 
metaphysical, by the retrospect into which it sometimes 
leads, occasionally affects me deeply. Of this the follow- 
ing soliloquy, the companion of my wakeful hours on the 
night after receiving thv letter, mav serve as an illustra- 
tion and a proof. And I hope that, without harm to 
either of us, I may in freedom and confidence impart these 
reflections of my own mind pretty much in their original 
form : — 

" 0 vain and delusive science, (if science we may deno- 
minate a philosophy falsely so called,) how much of sin 
and sorrow hast thou cost me ! How shall I so delineate 
thy character and features, that others beholding, may 
take heed of thy snares ? Shall I call thee a restless and 
fathomless ocean, or a mass of heterogeneous materials ? 
or wilt thou be better known and more avoided in the 
unsightly form of a paradox of unnatural combinations 
and contradictions, at once a chaos of darkness and a 
meteor of bewildering light, no less fatal and disastrous ? 
Ah ! whither didst thou once misguide, and where wouldst 
thou have left thy unhappy vie tun, had not that arm been 
made bare, which, under the strongest expressions and the 
boldest figures, the Scripture represents as the deliverer of 



139 



man from his most subtle and powerful enemies ! May 
my poor soul never forget the hour — for in less than one 
solitary hour (being quite alone) was effected my escape 
from these labyrinths of confusion and shame ! " 

Thus, or nearly thus, am I led to soliloquize on meta- 
physics ; but it is a portion of my mental history which I 
do not wish to be generally known, at least not until my 
own state of warfare is fully accomplished ; yet, if at any 
time in the course of a life which, for many valuable pur- 
poses, I hope may be prolonged beyond the date of mine, 
thou shouldst think the knowledge of such a case might 
help a poor traveller, faint and astray, thou art at liberty 
to make thy own use of it. Such characters are now and 
then to be met with, though I do not think the sins of 
thought are among the most prominent ones of our day. 
The multitude seem to prefer floating like bubbles down 
the stream of time. They have certainly a much easier, 
and, religion apart, perhaps as wise a course, as both will 
probably end in the same sad disappointment. 

Still I think thy mathematical mind (for, if I too may 
guess, such was its bias) made a better election than mine 
of the subject of its youthful inquiries, inasmuch as shore, 
however sandy, is more stable than the fluctuating wave, 
But the shore even of the soundest philosophy is too 
yielding for the support of eternal foundations, as we have 
the authority of the lip of truth, confirmed by the history 
of all ages, for believing. By these testimonies, as well as 
by that which almost daily occurrence presents to our 
view, it may be seen that no attainments merely human 
are able to preserve their possessors from danger or from 
ruin. Xo, this preservation is only to be found upon that 
rock to wdiich thou hast very appropriately alluded. This 



140 



rock, as saitli the apostle, is Christ, against which neither 
the allurements of calm and of sunshine, nor the terrors of 
storm and of tempest shall be able to prevail. 

31^.-1 would now refer you at leisure to Cowpers 
" Truth," wherein may be found a fine contrast between 
Voltaire and a peasant ; also to that sweet little piece of 
Beattie's, called " The Hermit," and to a few weighty 
lines in " J. G. Bevans Letters," &c, at page 267, 
beginning with 

" Let the bright beams of science shed." 

My view in thus sending you about, is for corroboration 
of such parts of this sheet as may be considered an attempt 
at exalting pure unsophisticated Christianity, such as 
we find it in our Bibles and in our hearts, above all the 
wit and wisdom, systems and inventions, of fallen and 
helpless man. Of his state by nature not many have a 
lower, perhaps few so low, an apprehension as myself. 
This apprehension, I think, is supported in fact, by his 
ignorance, his follies, and his crimes ; and in argument, 
by scriptural passages innumerable, together forming a 
conclusion which to me appears invincible, that without a 
Redeemer, of all the tribes of animated being which inhabit 
this earth, the human race is beyond comparison the most 
miserable. 

No, 82. To Sarah Squire. 

1822, 2 mo. 4. — I am not surprised that in the midst 
of so much conflict thy agitated mind should desire greater 
stayedness, and frequently sigh for a little repose. To ob- 
tain this, I would, as the result of my own repeated expe- 



141 



rience, recommend as much stillness as possible. And as 
stillness is more of a passive than an active nature, it is to 
be sought rather by yielding to than opposing the storm, 
suspending all, even our best thoughts ; and in this help- 
less, and peradventure almost hopeless condition, commit- 
ting ourselves to the God of our lives, with whom, and his 
dear Son Christ Jesus, alone, the power remains of saving 
to the uttermost, those who thus resign themselves and 
their all to such adverse circumstances and events, as in 
his inscrutable wisdom He may permit to attend them in 
their earthly pilgrimage. 

In the course of a life not exempt from trial, I have re- 
peatedly found this passive submission to be all that I 
could do ; the only safe and proper alternative on which 
everything else has seemed to depend. And in fleeing to 
this last resort, I have scarcely ever been disappointed in 
finding shelter from the present distress ; and at the 
future, thou knowest we are recommended not too 
anxiously to look. 

Poor Jonah had to remain three davs and three nights in 
the belly of the fish, while the waves and the billows passed 
over him. And I have thought that the account of Paul's 
dangerous voyage may afford instruction and encouragement 
to the tossed mind. In his case it is worthy of remark, 
that even after he had been assured by an angel, that not 
only his own life, but the lives of those who were with 
him should be spared ; yet after this how closely must his 
faith have been tried, by what occurred previously to their 
being finally cast upon the island of Melita ! The soldiers 
wanted to kill the prisoners — they had also to throw the 
precious wheat, comparable to the sustaining faith and hope 
of a Christian, into the sea ; and at last were not deli- 



142 



vered but through the terror and danger of complete ship- 
wreck. 

It is sometimes said to be an easy thing to give advice ; 
but I find it neither an easy nor a trifling thing thus to 
address a dear friend in her affliction. I have felt for her 
all that I say, and much that I cannot say ; and may the 
Lord, if consistent .with his holy will, bless these my exer- 
cises to her strength and comfort. 

No. 83. To J. J. Gurney. 

1822, 3 mo. 30. — What shall I say ? Boasting, we know, 
is excluded, and despondency, as thou hast well observed, 
with so much to encourage us, were equally wrong. Being 
very fond of a medium when I can find one, and as that, 
which if I can make it intelligible, may come nearest the 
truth, I must then tell thee, that in my case, as perhaps in 
thine and m any others, the winter has sometimesbeen cheerly, 
at others dreary. Time has passed now and then sweetly, 
at other seasons sadly — swiftly or slowly along — probably 
in part according to the diversity of causes in constant and 
successive operation upon the physical and mental tem- 
perament of poor, very poor creatures ; placed in a state 
wherein perhaps every possible change is a trial, causing 
some of them deeply to feel — would it were the case with 
all ! — the great need of a Redeemer, even to the full extent 
of the pathetic and fervent exclamation, " A Saviour, or I 
die — a Redeemer, or I perish for ever." But even when 
brought into these depths, and deeper we can scarcely go, 
there is yet no legitimate cause for despair ; — there is still, 
blessed be the Lord, a door of escape for us. Help is laid 
upon One that is mighty, even upon One who is able to 



143 



save, and that to the very uttermost, those who come unto 
God by Him. 

But the time for singing of birds, as to the outward at 
least, being come, it seems almost natural for those who can 

7 O 7 

stir, whether old or young, to look around them, and see 
if there is no part of the general business in which they 

may take a share. 

As the hyssop on the wall, in common with the sprightly 
fir or loftier cedar, contributes to the beauty of nature, so 
the owl as well as the nightingale, the linnet, and the lark, 
the harsh bray of the ass, the terrific roar of the lion, and 
the tender bleating of the lamb, all unite in harmony, 
all proclaim to ears that can hear them, their great Crea- 
tor's praise. I cannot tell which, but doubtless it is either 
my weakness or my fault, that, with so much opportunity 
and invitation, I am in general so little qualified to read 
and contemplate, as I think I ought, this divinely interesting 
volume of nature. I will however try to be thankful 
that I am not quite deaf to its instructions, or blind to its 
charms. Of this I had a renewed and pleasing hope, 
whilst " meditating at eventide,' 5 in a solitary walk, very 
lately, when, every storm being hushed, every sight was 
lovelv, and every sound a song. 

Shall I conceal from thee, that there is another voice 
which, if I mistake it not, just now comforts and supports 
my often drooping, I hope never entirely desponding, mind, 
more than any outwardly visible or audible thing : — this is 
the secret hope that it may be right for me to endeavour to 
attend our coming Yearly Meeting, an inclination which 
I believe thou wilt not mistake me if I say, rather increases 
than otherwise, by the probability of thyself, perhaps thy 
dear uncle, and many others being prevented. We should 



144 



I think be found at our posts so long as ability of different 
kinds is afforded. "When this is suspended, or as must 
ultimately happen, shall entirely fail, may we, may every 
Christian combatant, whether reclining in weakness or 
departing in death, seek and find repose, not with the 
outward and carnal soldier upon the bed of worldly honour, 
but in a situation far more dignified and appropriate, 
at his once crucified, now glorified, Lord and Master s feet. 

No. 84. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1822, 4 mo. 22. — Of the relationship peculiar to a spiritual 
dispensation, and of the love which is at once its basis and 
its preservation, how much might be said ! and yet to 
those who are really brought into it. and who participate 
in ever so small a degree of its benefits and its blessings, 
how little is sufficient ! Treating on the love just alluded 
to in one of thy letters, thou made use of two expressions, 
that to me seemed peculiarly appropriate, as tending to 
show that this disposition was not natural, but divine ; and 
I might have introduced these very words, in my attempt 
to prove the distinctness of Christian principle from every 
human attainment, and its superiority over every other 
possession of the mind. 

Not that I wish, any more than thyself, to despise learn- 
ing or decry philosophy. They have, as thou hast stated, 
their beauties and their excellencies, and may I think 
be made usefully subservient to religion. But they are too 
seldom willing, either to seek or to keep their places as her 
handmaids ; and all that I want is to strip the first of its 
conceit, and the last of its presumption, persuading both 
with a philosophy, " true and baptized," to bend the stub- 



145 



born knee and lower the towering head, before that foot- 
stool at which I am sometimes led to believe all our hopes 
and our fears, our joys and our sorrows, our crosses and 
our crowns, should be humbly and devoutly cast. 

I believe I was somewhat more than pleased by thy 
remarks, on the various manner in which the spiritual 
leaven operates, according to their nature, upon the different 
lumps subjected to its refining and forming power : it is 
indeed marvellous, perhaps incredible, to human wisdom ; 
and yet I believe that to the anointed eye of Christian faith 
and experience, it is pretty evident that such is the case. 
By this wonderful process it is that the different vessels of 
the spiritual house, or, in other words, the different mem- 
bers of the church or body of Christ are formed ; distinct 
as the hand and the foot, the ear and the eye, or any other 
parts of the animal frame : like these, unable to copy each 
other, or take each others office ; and yet like them, all 
necessary to the well-being of that body whereof they are 
members ; and although agreeably to thy idea there is no 
room for imitation, there is much indeed for sympathy :■ — ■ 
so much so that if one member suffer, all the members suffer 
with it ; and if one member be honoured all the members 
rejoice with it. What beauty, what order, what harmony 
in a church thus constituted, thus compacted by that which 
every joint supplieth, and thus growing up in all things in- 
to its head, even Christ!— and for what end? for the edify- 
ing of itself in love. Here we may see the scale of gradation, 
leading to what thou hast called the sum of the whole 
matter — Love. And surely no principle is so much 
calculated to assist, to calm, and to console us. How 
sweet are the very names of the comfort and peace, which, 
as streams from their fountain, flow from it! And perhaps 

H 



146 



hence it was that the compassionate Redeemer made such 
free use of these expressions, when He wanted to refresh 
and to strengthen his fainting disciples under their trying 
prospect of his being about to leave them — " comfort and 
peace," " rest to our souls more rapturous enjoyments 
the militant church, with all its infirmities, has little cause 
to covet, whilst of those she stands every day in need. 

Thou knowest the feelings of the natural parent towards 
those who, under Providence, have derived their being from 
us : we seem in them to live again. For these we have 
not only pleasures, but cares : not only hopes, but fears : 
not only sweet endearment and consolation to receive from 
them ; but anxious, sometimes painful, duties to perform 
for their sakes. Thus probably it may also be with those 
who make any approach towards the character of fathers 
and mothers in the church. They are anxious not to 
neglect by indifference, not to spoil by indulgence ; not 
willingly to grieve or disappoint such as may be looking 
towards them, and as it were asking bread at their hands; 
remembering the fearful situation of those who shall offend 
one of the little ones that believe in Christ. If these 
solicitudes are free from selfishness ; though it perhaps is 
difficult to say what is entirely so ; and I really am so 
little of a moralizer as sincerely, I hope, to despise myself, 
as a very selfish being ; — yet in so far as the dispositions 
and feelings just hinted at may carry any semblance of dis- 
interestedness, I will not disclaim them, leaving anything 
further, either about myself, or my dear friends, whom I 
am now addressing, where everything ought to be left. 



147 



No. 85. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1822, 7 mo. 21. — I am inclined to offer thee the best, 
indeed all that I possess, my tenderest and most affection- 
ate sympathy ; and though this may be all that we have 
in many cases to bestow, — for what is gold? — I have 
hoped, that in the breast of a believer in Christ, sympathy 
is neither a despicable nor an unavailing thing. 

I have long apprehended, what perhaps every one ac- 
quainted with its influence well knows, that the sympathy 
here alluded to is the offspring of love ; but I had not 
been so fully aware, as of late, when brought under its 
fresh and frequent excitement, how much it is also the pa- 
rent of supplication. Under its humbling and powerful 
impulse, we lead our sorrowing brethren and sisters to the 
last refuge of affliction, to the footstool of mercy ; and 
there, placing ourselves by their side, we assist them in 
prayer, we pray for them with a fervency, too, not less 
than that which pervades and possesses us, when petition- 
ing for the salvation of our own souls. Now, though this 
observation, — so slow is my progress, — has escaped me till 
grey hairs, does it not harmonize with the spirit of the 
Gospel, and does it not agree with loving one another as 
ourselves ? If one is really felt, is it surprising that the 
other — prayer, — should follow ? 

No. 86. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1822, 8 mo. 31. — I still indulge a hope that Christian 
perfection itself remains to be as lovely in my eyes as ever, 
and so attractive, that under all repulses and drawbacks, I 



148 



cannot help feebly — alas ! that it should be so feebly ! — 
pressing after it ; with what success is known only to that 
Being who seeth not as man seeth, and whose thoughts 
being higher than our thoughts, and his ways higher than 
our ways, judgeth us, as we have cause to believe, by a 
very different rule to that by which we measure ourselves 
and one another. 

How far advanced on the scale of the perfection just 
hinted at was the dignified apostle of the Gentiles ! This, 
notwithstanding the humble views he gives us of his own 
apprehended attainments, is evident from the acknowledg- 
ments which truth, and a desire to edify others, sometimes 
extorted, as it were, from his lips or his pen. In 2 
Cor. xi. 23 - 28, after recapitulating the almost unpa- 
ralleled sufferings and dangers that attended his Christian 
course, we find him making this important and striking 
addition, " Beside those things that are without, that 
which cometh upon me daily, the care of all the 
churches.' 3 

Whether we view the apostle Paul's character by 
parts, or as a whole, we can scarcely refrain from an 
astonishment attended with this peculiarity, that however 
surprised, we are neither offended nor dismayed : on the 
contrary, we seem so united to him by affection, admira- 
tion and sympathy, as almost to feel ourselves in his com- 
pany ; at least we return from our meditation with re- 
newed desire to run like him with patience the race set 
before us, and to be found with him in the footsteps of 
the flock of Christ's companions. 

I really, felt, and still feel, affected by the perusal of the 
intimate exposure of thy sufferings, bodily and mental, 
which thou hast laid before me, and I perhaps feel the 



149 



more sensibly on this point, from the lively recollection 
thereby excited of things which, under various circum- 
stances and at different periods of my life, I have also 
suffered ; especially of that which appears to have been a 
grievous annoyance to the heaven-bound traveller, in an- 
cient as well as in the present times, that " when we would 
do good, evil is present with us." 

Perhaps there are few of our spiritual trials more per- 
plexing than this, which may account for the memorable 
exclamation, " 0 wretched man that I am," &c. ; and 
when accompanied by reduction from other causes, it must 
have an additional tendency to keep us weak and low, 
which may very possibly be the design of him who thus assails 
by his darts, and seeks to overwhelm us by his floods. For 
I believe it is an old trick of this our adversary to place evil 
before some minds at such times and in such a way, as that 
he may more easily succeed in another of his deepest 
devices, by persuading them that they have in thought at 
least joined with some of his temptations, though from the 
very bottom of their souls they feel the deepest abhorrence 
of them all. But as one of our early friends has well ob- 
served, though these things may be called our temptations 
or buffetings, yet they are the sins of the enemy and not 
ours, as he would falsely insinuate ; and we may therefore 
return them to whom they belong, endeavouring at the 
same time to be as quiet as we can ; and thus in due time 
we may find, as I trust thou hast repeatedly found to thy 
comfort, that " when the enemy comes in like a flood, the 
Spirit of the Lord lifts up a standard against him." 

In the early part of my own life I was dreadfully 
harassed by evil suggestions, involuntarily excited in my 
mind, and charged upon me as sins ; and being in a state 



150 



of unbelief and disobedience, instead of being faithful and 
submissive to that which could only have wrought my deli- 
verance, what I suffered in these conflicts is indescribable ; 
and so artful was the author of them, that they were of a 
character which I could not disclose. I was therefore 
almost distracted, and concluded that there was not such 
another case in the world as mine. How far this might 
be I cannot tell, though it is probable that it also was 
false, and intended to finish the business of driving me to 
despair ; for ever since I became more willing to make the 
best use of my afflictions, either by endeavouring to bear 
them patiently, or by seeking and accepting a hand of 
help, I have seldom met with a trial that has not its 
parallel in the experiences of others ; leading me to conclude 
that no new thing has happened to me ; and that according 
to the consoling language of 1 Cor. x. 13, no temptation has 
taken me but such as is common to man. 

I am aware that self is a dangerous enemy, and requires 
much watching against ; but as in our speculations we are 
very prone to push even good things too far, I am not 
quite certain that we do not in this w T ay sometimes refine 
too much upon what we call self-love, and for fear of in- 
dulging it improperly, really refuse or pass by the comfort, 
help, and strength which are mercifully designed us. The 
being commanded to love others as ourselves, appears to 
be so far from precluding a necessary care for our own pre- 
servation and happiness, that the manner in which it is 
supposed we shall, and the degree in which it is allowed 
we may, love ourselves, seem not only to be recognized by 
this simple and sublime precept, but to be made the stand- 
ard and criterion of our feelings, and of our behaviour to- 
wards others. And as surely as it is lawful for a drowning 



151 



man to use means for his deliverance, so surely do I believe 
that it is not only allowable, but a duty for the sinking 
mind to accept, with gratitude to its great Preserver, any 
of the various means which He may be pleased to offer for 
its assistance, amongst which the records and communica- 
tions of those who have travelled, or who are travelling the 
same path, may form no inconsiderable part. Witness in 
this respect the incalculable value of the Holy Scriptures, 
as well as the oral and written testimonies even of our 
cotemporaries. 

We have a chain of evidence, and a cloud of witnesses, 
male and female, old and young, high and low, learned 
and unlearned, all testifying to a truth, from which it 
seems equally difficult to withhold our assent, or refuse to 
accept consolation, that in all our baptisms and exercises 
no new thing has happened to us. 

No. 87. To J. J. GURNEY. 

1822, 11 mo. 8. — It may not be., always easy for the 
Christian to resemble what I think is fabled of the night- 
ingale — sing with his breast upon the thorn which presses 
it ; nor may it be much more easy for him to sing the 
songs of Zion in a strange land ; and yet, though difficult, 
I have thought these things, or things comparable to them, 
may not be impossible. All things, it is said, are possible 
to him that believeth. May it not therefore be possible 
for the believer to sing the sweetest of all melodies, the 
song of resignation, in the hour of adversity and trial ? 
May it not be possible for him to take down the harp from 
the willows, and contrasting the goodness and mercy which 
have followed him all his life long, with his own imbecility 



152 



and un worthiness, chant the praises of his Preserver and 
Redeemer beside the proud waters of Babylon — even 
though her swelling waves, many in number and mighty 
in strength, should despise his humble and solitary 
strain ? 

A saying of the psalmist, when addressing the Most 
High, " In the multitude of my thoughts within me," — and 
alas ! what are merely human thoughts ! — " thy comforts 
delight my soul;" and the experience of one less distin- 
guished under trials, (avoiding the stronger term, conflicts,) 
which he has lately passed, or is now passing, convince him 
of the possibility of offering the sacrifices of prayer or 
praise, even in the face of opposition and discouragement. 
Yes ! there are resting-places for the Lord's children and 
servants, though they may at times but resemble a " sunny 
island in a stormy main," or " a spot of azure in a cloudy 
sky." And at other seasons, when comfort seems to stand 
afar off, and has been long and vainly sought, we at length 
find it connected with the remembrance of some beloved 
and absent friend. Indeed, this having been my case 
within the last few days, when thinking of thee, is the pre- 
sent inducement for taking up my pen. 0 that the gra- 
cious Being, who even whilst inhabitants of this vale of 
tears, has brought us to some knowledge of Himself, of 
ourselves, and of each other, may so enable us to walk be- 
fore Him with acceptance during the remainder of our 
stay in it, as that we may ultimately receive in a better 
world, in such mode and degree as may be consistent with 
his holy will, a full consummation of that happiness, 
whereof, though most undeserving, He has given us an 
earnest and a foretaste here belo w ! 

I think thou canst believe that I do not thus express 



153 



myself, from either the constant or the very frequent redun- 
dancy of heavenly good ; but being at the present period 
more disposed to gratitude than to complaint, or even to si- 
lence, I am inclined to invite thee, my dear friend, to join 
me, if it be but as for a moment, in commemorating the 
Lord's gracious dealings with our souls, that thus we may 
exalt his name together. For though to our dim sight and 
limited views, the number of such as are thus disposed to 
praise Him is either few or little known to each other, 
there seems the louder call upon those whose hearts may 
be quickened and united therein, to be diligent when ability 
is afforded, in the discharge of this sweet and sacred obli- 
gation, though in so doing they have no more to glory in than 
had the apostle, who declared that necessity was laid upon 
him, yea, that woe was unto him, if he preached not the 
Gospel, 

No. 88. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1822, 12 mo. 28. — One of my most interesting medita- 
tions of late has been the unworthiness of man, contrasted 
with the mercy of his Creator, especially in that most de- 
lightful and all-important point, the forgiveness of sins ; a 
theme at once so simple and so sublime, so brief in de- 
scription, yet so inexhaustible in its nature, so adapted to 
a " worm," and to " God," that whenever a little capa- 
city for indulging it is granted, I think we need not be 
afraid of the result, which I suppose will generally be 
shame and confusion to ourselves ; and glory where it is, 
and where it can only be due. Under some little renewed 
sense of these things, can we not, my dear friend, unite in 
the language, — thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift, 
" h 4 



154 



and for all his other countless mercies, both in nature and 

in grace ? 

No. 89. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1823, 1 mo. 17. — With thee I know what it is to re- 
turn low and depressed, even from meeting ; nor am I a 
stranger to those disquieting doubts and fears which are 
such close trials of our faith. Whilst to be as humble as I 
ought, when things go the best with me ; and as patient as 
I should be in the hour of adversity, simple and self-evident 
as the justice of these propositions is, I have always found 
to be amongst the hardest practical lessons of the Christian 
school. In the first case it is difficult to keep our feet ; 
and in the last, not much less so to hold up our heads. 
Perhaps there are few things more likely than the know- 
ledge, that this sort of experience runs more parallel in dif- 
ferent subjects than we might suppose, to enable indi- 
viduals really to sympathize with each other ; under which 
expression I now include the entering into each other s 
spiritual concerns, and breathing for one another's welfare 
and preservation in the way of holiness and peace : and to 
trace the lines of the reciprocal experience here alluded to, 
may possibly constitute one of the purposes of that sort of 
religious intercourse which, in a very interesting chapter 
of the Bible, is called speaking often one to another. 
(Malachi, iii.) 

The time with me has now arrived wherein many of 
my temporal prospects are closed, and others seem to be so 
fast closing, that in respect of many circumstances of high 
and allowable satisfaction in their time and place, it might 
almost be said, " I rejoice not and though I may not al- 



155 

ways be able, perhaps few have this constant assurance, "ra- 
ther to rejoice that my name is written in heaven," I 
think I could nevertheless rejoice, and that with joy un- 
speakable, " to wake and find me" in the lowest mansion 
there ; and yet however we may desire this glorious and 
unmerited exchange, (for all is of mercy,) from probation to 
unalloyed fruition, we must not be too selfish. We ought 
to consider those to whom our continuance even in this 
valley of humiliation may be either pleasant or serviceable ; 
and we ought especially to endeavour to wait with pa- 
tience the Lord's time for releasing us. I hope I am thus 
striving to wait, though it must be acknowledged attended 
by certain longings which I cannot at all times suppress ; 
even now gently conflicting emotions produce a tenderness 
which I am thankful to find is neither bitter nor painful. 
I should scarcely, however, have dared to be so explicit on 
so solemn a subject, did I not rely upon thy candour, and 
at the same time recollect the case of an apostle, as de- 
scribed, (Phil. i. 23 :) " I am in a strait betw T ixt two, 
having a desire to depart and to be w^ith Christ, which is 
far better." 

No. 90. To Joseph Gurney. 

1823, 1 mo. 28.— Thy letter of the 13th was truly wel- 
come tome in cheering this solitude, and breaking, without 
disturbance, the stillness of wdiich I have a considerable 
portion ; and, as it seems, thy mind had depicted not a 
very small part of both, sitting in my chair. 

To seclusion I was born, down a lane with which thou 
art acquainted, and having now passed more than half a 



156 



century in it, I am very much reconciled to this part cf 
my lot • and as to stillness, though contentment in it may 
be in some sort constitutional, vet I believe it is much 
more owing to certain turns and circumstances in my life, 
some leading and others driving me to seek in quietude a 
refuge from myself, from the enemy, and from the world. 
From myself, I say, because from this quarter I have had 
much trouble, and from other causes, some together leav- 
ing me at times but just in possession of life and reason. 
But in the depth of my extremity, I have again and again, 
in unutterable mercy, had quietness offered me, as a shelter 
and a refuge ; so that I have much cause to speak well, 
and none to complain, of a state which I know by man 
would be called insipid and dreary. 

I noticed thy blanks, and observed the delicate fear which 
prevented thy filling them up ; and it has brought to my 
remembrance, having once stumbled on the same subject in 
one of the few letters which I wrote to thy deceased rela- 
tive J. G. Bevan, who in reply, whilst he commended my 
tenderness, and though no man was perhaps more cautious 
in this respect than himself, yet he seemed careful to guard 
me against a too fearful scrupulosity as to the use even of 
the most solemn words when our subject required it, and 
the mind was impressed with a due reverence. Between 
this-and a profane use of the sacred name he drew a con- 
trast, which we know to be great ; but I think our present 
objection lies against something between these extreme 
points, — a familiar, incautious, unnecessary, and therefore 
vain custom, of solemn trifling with the awful name and 
attributes of our great and holy Creator. I have known 
professors, and even teachers of religion, who seemed as if 
they thought this practice meritorious, whilst, with my 



157 

views of the subject, it has felt almost as affecting to me 
as the profane swearing of the ill-informed and vulgar. It 
must however be acknowledged, that some of the Scriptural 
writers, as David, Paul, and others, have used a liberty in 
the case before us, wherein it may be the safest for us to 
follow them with devout, but not with too fearful steps ; 
perhaps the true medium may lie here. 

My reading of the Scriptures in early life, perhaps like 
thy own, was too desultory, and my memory very imper- 
fect, so that from these sources I had little or nothing to 
expect. What remained for me, therefore, but to humble 
myself, and instead of seeking great things, or aspiring- 
after high attainments, to become little or low in my own 
eyes, if haply I might find that simplicity of a little child, 
without which we are told the kingdom of heaven cannot 
be entered, and discover that foolishness in which, if a man 
would be truly wise, he must be content to appear ? In 
this path, and with these objects in view, I have now been 
for near twenty years endeavouring to travel ; with what 
success on the whole is known only to Him who knoweth 
all things, and with how many inequalities, too obvious to 
myself, I will not weary thee with enumerating. 

I sometimes think it is both a consolation and an encou- 
ragement for those, who it may be have studied the Scrip- 
tures too little in their youth, and whose loss of memorv 
prevents their entering upon such a study now with much 
prospect of advantage ; I think it is an especial favour to 
such, that amidst all their ignorance and emptiness, no 
greater things are required of them than they are able to 
bear, and that they are furnished by the Good Remem- 
brancer with portions of Scripture as they want them 
both for their own benefit and that of others. Wherefore, 



158 



my dear friend, let us not be too much discouraged, though 
we should have to class ourselves as among the least who 
believe in Christ, but rather forgetting the things which 
are behind, whether of omission or commission, which can 
neither be altered nor recalled, let us press forward to the 
tilings that are before, trusting (I desire to speak it with 
becoming reverence) to the mercies of God, and leaning on 
Him, on whom archangels are said to lean, and who is the 
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. 

In reply to a kind inquiry at the beginning of thy letter, 
as to how I am, and what are the prospects around me, — in 
spirituals I am surrounded for many, many miles by few 
fellow-professors ; nor is fewness all that might be mention- 
ed ; yet I sometimes hope that even in this stripped dis- 
trict, a remnant are not forsaken ; and I thought so par- 
ticularly at our last Quarterly Meeting, when I was re- 
freshed by the sight of a small number of friends, with 
some of whom I have been long accustomed to meet ; others 
of them are "the youth of another day," yet interesting 
to me for their fathers' sakes, and I hope I may say for 
the truth's sake. The subject of the free love and mercy 
of our Heavenly Father was much the companion of my 
mind whilst assembled with them. As to temporals around 
me, if that made any part of thy inquiry, they continue 
to be very discouraging ;* and the situation of many of 
my neighbours really affects me at times almost beyond 
what I can describe : but it seems to avail nothing com- 
plaining ; we must therefore endeavour to bear. 



* Alluding to the depressed state of the farming interest. 



159 



No. 91. To Sarah Squire. 

1823, 2 mo, 21. — I can feel for thee under the buffeting 
of Satan, whereof in the shape of a wandering imagination, 
thou so pathetically complained. This mode of his attack, 
including both the roaring of the lion, the subtlety of the 
serpent, and many nameless presentations, is in itself no 
new or strange thing, though in appearance both new, 
strange, and terrific to the individual who has not been 
much, if at all, accustomed to such conflicts. I was early 
acquainted with them myself, so that before reaching 
twenty years of age, I was almost driven to distraction. 
The short petition, " Lord ! help me," which thou hast men- 
tioned as one that has sometimes escaped thee when under 
deep trial, has forcibly reminded me of perhaps the first 
fervent prayer I ever put up, — not in a temple made with 
hands, — not in any congregation assembled for worship, — ■ 
but in solitude, under the magnificent canopy of the over- 
arching heavens, and with a retired corner of a haystack 
for my altar : here I cast myself in great agitation on my 
knees, and exclaimed, " If there be a God in heaven, I pray 
Thee help me." 

Nor was this the only period of my life in which I have 
been thus pursued by him who is described as "going 
about," &c. — who was permitted to prove Job, to withstand 
Joshua, and even to tempt the dear Son of God himself ; 
for since I have been more decidedly endeavouring to serve 
and to please my Creator, and to be what He would have 
me to be, I have sometimes been thus hunted, from day to 
day, and from place to place. Once in particular I recol- 
lect, when on a little turn-out with two women friends, 



160 



who were travelling in the work of the ministry, I was 
grievously tried with wandering thoughts from meeting to 
meeting ; my very soul abhorred them, and at length a 
language to this effect sprang up in the secret of my heart, 
" If I have sinned, I pray Thee, forgive me; but if these 
things are for the trial of my faith and patience, I sub- 
mit." Upon this the enemy vanished, and I was enabled 
to pursue the remainder of my journey in satisfaction and 
peace ; and it is somewhat remarkable how useful I find 
the remembrance of this circumstance, even to the present 
time, so much so, that when followed, and might we not 
almost say insulted, by this malignant spirit, I can gene- 
rally by prayer and patience foil, or at least silence him. 

Although no consideration ought to reconcile us to sin, 
there are I think several which may prevent our being too 
much surprised at temptation, or from viewing it as a 
thing inconsistent with our probationary state, of which 
perhaps, speaking after the manner of men, it might be 
almost said to form an integral part, w T herefore " Blessed 
is the man that endureth it " To him that overcometh 
will I give," &c. But if there were no such thing as 
temptation, there would be none to endure, and were there 
no opposition, there would be nothing to overcome. Were 
there none of these, there could be neither warfare nor 
victory, nor is it probable we should have been favoured 
with a promise and declaration, w^hich I consider as one of 
the most precious left us on sacred record. " Because thou 
hast kept the word of my patience, I also will keep thee 
from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all 
the w T orld, to try them that dwell upon the earth." 

Do not think, however, that I would assume the office 
of a preacher to thee. I am only giving thee a leaf of my 



161 



experience, to help thee against our common enemy, in a 
case wherein I have had, and may yet have, many a com- 
bat with him. For thou hast not been mistaken in sup- 
posing, that notwithstanding my being further advanced 
in age than thyself, yet I find amidst the vicissitudes 
which surround me, stormy night seasons, which not un- 
frequently either to my weakness or my impatience, per- 
haps to both, seem long, dark, and dreary. Yet, like thy- 
self, I have nothing of which I would complain, rather 
let me respond to thy sweet and moving ejaculation, " 0 
that the good Pilot may guard and protect us ! " and let us 
endeavour to be of good cheer. I hope and trust He 
will. 



No. 92. To J. and H, C. Backhouse. 



1823, 3 mo. 28.— Whilst desirous for myself never 
again to aspire above the docility and dependence of a 
little child, I feel that there is a sense in which some of 
the junior branches of the Christian family may be ad- 
dressed as dear children by their elder brethren and 
sisters, to whom they are given by the universal Parent as- 
"dear children" in the truth. Between these different 
classes of society there exists a reciprocal and appropriate 
intercourse of comfort and of help. How beautiful, be- 
held only in vision, is this part of the divine and spiritual 
economy ! but how valuable in possession to those who 
have wandered in a far country, and there spent all their 
substance, is a readmission to this and all the varied privi- 
leges of their Heavenly Father s house ! How diligently, 
yet in how quiet and unassuming a manner, I sometimes 



162 



think, such should go about the business assigned them, 
that so they may neither interfere with the concerns of 
others, nor interrupt the innocent enjoyments of those who 
more happily have never been guilty of equal aberrations 
from the paths of rectitude and duty ! Wifl you not 
rather incline to pity than reproach these penitents, who- 
ever they are, and wherever you find them i For the 
present I take leave of my subject, with an acknowledg- 
ment of its being one of the most interestins: I ever con- 
_ *• — - 

template, and one from which my mind is seldom long 
separated: those who have themselves been aliens and 
exiles learn to know the heart of a stranger. 

Though I consider myself principled against that 
praise of men of which I think even the better part of the 
world is too lavish. I deem it right duly to appreciate and 
gratefully to acknowledge, whether immediately or in- 
strument ally conveyed, the inestimable value of the 
greatest of all blessings Love. — our solace in time and our 
hope as to eternity, without which the first would be more 
of a wilderness than it is, and the last would present but 
an awful uncertainty. 

The value of even words fitly spoken consists in their 
application to our understanding, or, which perhaps is a 
distinction without a difference, to the openness of the un- 
derstanding to receive them. I think also that this 
capacity for receiving them may depend either upon the 
circumstances in which we are placed, or on the influence 
of that principle which shall brin£ all things needful to 
the remembrance of those who receive and believe in it. 
It is generally by one of these means, or by them both 
conjointly, that not only the language of Scripture but that 
of our friends, whether written or vocal, can be made truly 



163 



useful to us, either as doctrine, reproof, or instruction. 
We cannot, at least I cannot, carry the Bible in my head ; 
and yet what cause for thankfulness I find in having por- 
tions of it, often very brief ones, presented to my mind 
when I most want them ! Such as seem more particularly 
for my own use are not always of the most gratifying 
nature ; perhaps nothing but such a passage as the second 
and third verses of the thirtieth chapter of the Proverbs, 
" Surely I am more brutish than any man, and have not 
the understanding of a man. I neither learned wisdom, 
nor have the knowledge of the holy," will at all apply. 
This, on turning to it, thou wilt see is rather homely fare ; 
yet however unpalatable, when hungry enough to receive 
it, I have found it good both as food and medicine. As 
the first, it might be compared to strong meat ; and as 
the second, it is an especial antidote against pride in its 
various branches. 

H. has I think truly observed, that it is of no moment 
from what causes the mind becomes reduced. Admitting 
this, I think its reductions may be sometimes owing to 
obvious, at others, to more latent or even incomprehensible 
causes. Of the latter description is that state of feeling 
which, leaving the understanding perfectly clear, neither 
proceeding from reason nor imagination, seems to threaten 
us with annihilation. And though I am far from believing 
it to be the will, yet I so much believe it is in the power 
of the Creator to cause 44 the spirit to fail before Him, and 
the souls which He has made/' that were the proofs to 
which I have alluded suffered to continue, it might pos- 
sibly perform what it threatens. The subject, however, 
being as I have said incomprehensible, it is not in human 
language to do it adequate justice ; perhaps it may bear 



164 



some comparison to the falling of that stone which we are 
told shall grind to powder those upon whom it descends ; 
or perhaps still more to the withdrawing of that sustaining 
power which not only upholds the worlds, but is equally 
necessary to the preservation of individual existence. 

I know I am upon sacred and delicate, yet. unless my 
own sensations in some of the most memorable moments 
of my life have greatly deceived me, I think I am not on 
dreaming or fabulous ground, and therefore perhaps it is 
that I am the more desirous of making myself intelligible, 
to one at least of those who, having passed through more 
than ordinary reductions both of body and mind, may be 
the most likely to understand me. With this view I will 
venture to add, what I never ventured on paper before, 
that these mysterious baptisms (for are we not sometimes 
made wonders to ourselves ?) have to myself received their 
most striking illustration, from the circumstance of an 
animal, suppose a bird or a mouse, placed under the re- 
ceiver of an air-pump, and the air gradually withdrawn 
from it, until after acute suffering it becomes at length 
torpid and to appearance dead ; but the vital spark not 
being quite extinguished, on a readmission of the element 
of which it has been deprived, the poor creature revives, 
and in a short time exhibits all its former sprightliness and 
energy. Is not this somewhat emblematic of a mind cut 
off from all sense and feeling of good, until He who is its 
resurrection and its life shall appear for its relief, when it 
is once more united to the living : it is again restored to 
all the purposes of life and duty. 

Now though it may be of no moment, or even might 
not be good for us, to know how all these effects are pro- 
duced in and upon us. yet I have thought this species of 



165 



humiliation, perhaps the deepest of which we are capable, 
may be the most effectual of all others upon minds not 
only conscious of their own powers, but made confident 
in them by that kind of knowledge which by our limited 
understandings is deemed, and perhaps as far as it extends 
is rightly called, demonstrative. 

And truly it requires no common influence to bring 
minds of this description from the heights of their Carmel 
into that valley where the Lord will condescend to plead 
with them. And yet how generally is the extraordinary 
course of mental exercise, which He sees to be necessary 
for this important purpose, misunderstood, or rather not 
understood at all, by the natural man! — professors of 
medicine often blending it with what they call nervous 
affections ; and professors of divinity, sometimes still more 
in the dark, bestowing upon it the opprobrious and de- 
grading epithets of mysticism, enthusiasm, and fanaticism. 

I hope these observations will have no tendency to 
depress thee, or lead thee into a train of unprofitable 
thought, which would indeed be the very reverse of my 
intention. It is simply this, that if ever thou art again 
plunged into what thou hast well called " the depths of 
our existence," or shouldst behold another there, thou 
mayst remember for thy encouragement, having once 
known a man who pretending to no more, yet in spite 
of ignorance or ridicule, laying claim to common rationality, 
confessing himself unable fully to describe the depths 
of those spiritual scenes through which in the course of 
his pilgrimage he has passed, leaves yet behind him 
certain traces or footsteps by which the future traveller 
may discern that he once was there. 



166 



No. 93. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1823, 4 mo. 21. — Iu the course of the last month I 
went with my daughters into Yorkshire. Leaving them 
at Selby, I took a ride alone into Holdemess to see those 
who remained of my mothers relations, as well as as few 
of the surviving friends of my youth, in whose society, 
when between the age of boy and man, I was not less 
informed, for they were my seniors, than delighted. Of 
the latter I found three retired from business, making one 
little family : a man and wife whose united ages make 
upwards of 150 years, and a sister of the latter, who I 
believe is more than 70. They all appeared in full posses- 
sion of their faculties, which I think are rather of a su- 
perior order, and the married couple retaining so much 
bodilv strength as vet to ride double-horsed twelve miles 
to their monthly meeting, which I believe has been their 
practice for more than half a century. As we meet very 
seldom, this interview, though short, was reciprocally com- 
fortable, whilst standing like the remnant of a broken 
regiment on a field whereon many of our former com- 
panions had fallen around us. The scene thus presented 
was solemn, though not terrific ; and just before quitting it 
my intellectual feelings so much corresponded with the 
state of the elements, which from stormy had become 
calm, that, as in passing the voyage of life I not unfre- 
quently am, I was reminded of Addison s beautiful hymn 
beginning " How are thy servants blessed, 0 Lord ! " At 
this time the lines which impressed me as the most de- 
scriptive of the mental circumstances of myself and friends 
were these : — 



167 



" The storm was laid, the winds retired, 
Obedient to thy will ; 
The sea that roared at thy command, 
At thy command was still." 

No. 94. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1823, 7 m>o. 21. — That life is full of vicissitude, is an 
observation almost too trite to be worth making, yet old 
as the remark is, the experience on which it is founded is 
new every day. Thus thy infirm friend, who probably 
appeared quite in health when we lately met, has since 
his return home been visited with a very sharp fit of those 
pains in the head which on taking cold frequently fix and 
centre there, making an already weak part still weaker. But 
be it so : I will not repine, hoping that through mercy,— 
for all is of mercy, — I have been enabled to bear not only 
the chastisement itself, but the bleeding, blistering, &c. 
consequent thereon, tolerably. Nor would this be worth 
recording, but as the means of passing a few recovering 
moments in pleasant intercourse with thee, and as an 
illustration of the subject on which I stumbled at setting 
out. 

Our being together at Lynn was truly cordial to me, 
and fulfilled all that I had anticipated from it, in renewing 
and cementing our union. On mature reflection, no less 
than in our evening walk on the quay, I consider the day 
we passed there, as being on the whole a day of favour, or 
! according to my text in our conversation, "as a day which 
the Lord had made," and in which therefore we might 
humbly rejoice. There appear to be now and then, as 
I doubt not thou hast observed, seasons which are 



168 



more than ordinarily consecrated and sanctified. And 
yet, — for such is the imperfection of man, and of all around 
him, and such the nature of that earthen vessel in which 
this most precious treasure is deposited, — I scarcely ever 
find a joy, or even an excellence, which by passing through a 
medium does not receive some degree of alloy. Perhaps 
this is unavoidable, perhaps it is even good for us in our 
present state, as its uniform effect on my own mind is 
mortification for one thing - 9 and sometimes I hope hu- 
mility without dismay for another, and I never find a 
safer resting-place. 

These lines, which are a little varied from the original, as 
better suiting my purpose, were applied very impressively 
to my own case in a state of nature, as I was walking 
alone to our small meeting, I think so lately as fourth- 
day last : — 

" Legion was my name by nature, 
Satan raged within my breast ; 
Never was more vile a creature, 
Never creature more distressed.' ' 

22nd. — Let us now reverse the medal, where perhaps to 
our equal surprise we shall find a presentation not only 
less appalling, but even shining with the glory of God, and 
yet little less humiliating to the creature. For although 
it be indeed true that the suddenness of my conversion (on 
the highway too) and the display of power attending it, 
may bear some resemblance to that of the apostle Paul, 
yet here the simile entirely fails, and all further comparison, 
from that hour to the present, fills me with a tender but 
not painful confusion. Not painful, because in this 
crisis, love with its softest touches interposes for my 



169 



relief, and mercy in her gentlest whispers forbids me to 
despair. All hail, the glorious day ! nearer I trust than 
when I first believed, and as I sometimes fain would hope, 
not now very far off, when no longer impeded by obscurity 
or interruption, I shall extol the Fountain of these ineffable 
attributes with unceasing Hallelujahs. 

I find a spring of comfort and congratulation arise in 
my heart towards those who of latter years have attached 
themselves more closely and decidedly to the principles 
and practices of Friends ; and in this view — — and — 
have a place in that secret and sacred recess of my heart, 
from which I think everything gross and selfish is the 
most excluded. Here it is that I love them, not so much 
for my own sake or for theirs exclusively, as for the Lord's 
sake, and for the sake of his blessed truth, and especially 
for the sake of that little church, which (however de- 
spised, overlooked, or misunderstood,) is to those who have 
been rightly initiated within its walls, and who abide 
upon its immovable foundations, a quiet refuge and a 
peaceful sanctuary. For thus, without invidious com- 
parison, I must be allowed to believe of it, and thus per- 
haps I may be allowed to persuade others to believe, in 
this inviting language, nearly that of an apostle, " Come, 
and have fellowship with us, for truly our fellowship is with 
the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ : " but not ex- 
clusively your privilege, some might object : I do not say 
this, but this I am bold to avow in the face of the whole 
world, (and with thee for my Aaron need I fear contra- 
diction ?) that under the fastidious nickname by which we 
are designated, after some examination and much reluct- 
ance to bearing its crosses, there still appears to me to be 

comprised and concealed, even under this very reproach, 

i 



170 



the most simple, unsophisticated and essential form of 
Christian profession. 

Whilst no man perhaps thinks less than I do of the 
boast of heraldry and the pomp of power, whilst no man 
believes more fully than I do that the universal Parent 
made of one blood all the families of the earth, and there- 
fore in his sight, the soul of the master and the soul of the 
servant are alike inestimably precious ; yet this persuasion 
does not in the least interfere with 1 my further belief, that 
it has pleased the same Almighty Creator and Governor 
of the world to appoint various classes and conditions of 
men in society, both civil and religious, and that it is 
also his will that not only these different classes, but each 
individual in every class, should contribute to the good of 
the whole according to the talents bestowed upon him and 
his opportunities for exercising them. 

How much, since we parted, I have been comforted and 
strengthened by recurring to the passage which came so 
much before thee in our precious evening meeting at Lynn, 
" My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my expectation 
is from Him." So true it is that our minds want stirring 
up by w T ay of remembrance, even of things whereof it 
might be supposed that we not only knew them before, 
but were fully established in them. 

On casting an eye over my performance I perceive that 
a trembling hand and a faltering mind, sometimes oc- 
casioned by my subject, and sometimes by fatigue and 
weakness, have produced both blots and blunders. Excuse 
these, and excuse still more important imbecilities and 
imperfections of thy friend, 



171 



Xo. 95. To Joseph Gurney. 

1823, 7 wo. 31. — My desire towards such of 

my junior friends as may be similarly circumstanced, both in 
temporals and spirituals, with this dear young man, is to 
encourage without flattering, and to warn without wound- 
ing them. Yet such is the frailty of human temperament, 
if I shall not weary thee with a theme to which I am al- 
most perpetually recurring, and which indeed appears to 
me to be inexhaustible, that when the views of man are 
most correct, and his object is in sight, his arm is still 

weak and deviating, so that in executing the best inten- 
07 O 

tions, or even commands, his arrow is apt to fly on this 
side or that, and sometimes beyond the mark. Hence 
what need of his own watchful care and skill, and how 
much greater necessity of something above it, — of that 
preserving help which can only keep him from falling ! 
The last is a point which, however unworthily I may 
treat it, I am particularly desirous of impressing in the 
deepest manner upon my friends and fellow-mortals of all 
classes, whatever their distinctions, denominations, or 
attainments may be. 

I quite unite in thy sentiment of judging even our own 
selves, believing that in this way much time and strength 
may be spent to little purpose ; and the simple yet so- 
lemn consideration, that the thoughts of Him to whom 
judgment no less than mercy belongeth are higher than 
our thoughts, and his ways higher than our ways, tends 
more than anything, short of his own sensible presence in 
the temple of my heart, to silence the vain cogitations and 
calm the anxieties which are so apt to intrude, and even 

i 2 



172 



to reign there. This is no-fc judging at random, it is mere 
statement of fact ; a fact on which may we not devoutly 
conclude with the apostle, that thanks are indeed due to 
Him who giveth us the victory. 

No. 96. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1823, 11 mo. 20.— Though our Heavenly Father is 
merciful, and our friends may, as mine are, be kind, yet 
perhaps few of us are wholly exempt from a painful and 
a solitary hour. Instance those nocturnal vigils, wdierein 
the body is too weary or too suffering to sleep, and the 
mind, still more restless, is too anxious for repose, and in- 
stead of this, though perhaps not very wisely, traverses 
sea and land as it were in quest of new and increased 
disquietude, until at length, somewhat like the patriarch's 
dove, weary with these unprofitable wanderings, we are 
driven back again to the ark, or in language more befitting 
Christian pilgrims, are compelled to feel after that effective 
Word, which, to the turbulence of our spirits no less than 
to the fury of the elements, can, and only can^ say, 
" Peace, be still." This sentiment is I believe consistent 
both with Scripture and experience ; and to the same pur- 
port sweetly and I think truly has sung a Christian poet, 
who appears to have been deeply versed in our subject: 
let us hear him : — 

" Some dream that they can silence when they will 
The storm of passion, and say, Peace, he still ; 
But thus far, and no further, when addressed 
To the wild wave, or wilder human breast, 
Implies authority, that never can, 
That never ought to be, the lot of man." 



173 

I have witliin these few months been bereaved by 
death of a beloved niece, wife to Samuel Sims of Stockport, 
who for several years previous to her marriage was my 
companion and housekeeper, much to our mutual comfort 
and satisfaction. This dear young woman, always amiable 
and serious, had I believe for a considerable time been in- 
creasingly solicitous for her eternal well-being ; and though 
her path was a very retired one, her end seems to have 
been crowned with peace. Nay, so far as we dim-sighted 
mortals can judge from appearances, seen as w T e behold 
them through a glass darkly, it was more ; for I am in- 
formed by a relation who attended her through her illness, 
that as her earthly part declined, her prospects into 
another and a better world seemed to expand and to 
brighten ; so much so as to induce a hope, and the hope 
has both consoled and encouraged me, that one who, in 
order no doubt to her purification, had passed through 
many and deep baptisms, was finally admitted into ineffable 
beatitude, as by the portals of a triumphant glory. Does 
such a hope in such a case as this, for afflictions are apt to 
carry us too far, exceed in thy judgment the tenor of that 
language which has been precious to many a drooping 
mind, held out to us by the dear Redeemer himself in the 
beginning of the fifth chapter of Matthew, wherein I 
seem to see the outlines of my dear niece's character ex- 
actly portrayed ? — she was a mourner, she was meek, she 
was merciful — and she is gone. 

After thus devoting a solitary hour, as a free-will 
offering to my valued friend, I do not know that I can do 
better than conclude under the feeling of solemnity which 
the last words in the last sentence have brought over my 
mind. 



174 



No. 97. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1824, 1 mo. 3. — As to thy question how far mental or 
even personal cultivation may minister to pride orhumilitv, 
the ground may not be quite clear ; and yet if we can 
admit, as I think I can, that when the mind is healthy and 
well-regulated the person will mostly be sufficiently at- 
tended to, as an effect from its cause, perhaps we may 
safely conclude the most improved state of all our faculties 
to be favourable as handmaids, but as handmaids only, to 
religion and virtue. And that in this capacity of subjec- 
tion to the Christian cross they are also the ornament and 
the innocent delight of civil society, enabling their favoured 
possessor to strew more flowers and scatter greater bene- 
fits, amongst his fellow-travellers in their journey through 
the intricate and sometimes discouraging paths of time. 

But here, consistently with our acknowledged love of 
order, let us preserve the needful and obvious distinction, 
between what really improves and that which only adorns, 
or between wise and judicious instruction and mere 
worldly accomplishment ; as under the latter designation 
I am inclined to believe, amongst the other hurtful things, 
may be recognised the deepest humiliation of the under- 
standing and the greatest corruption of the heart. 

It has long been a decided sentiment with me, that all the 
advantages a man possesses, whether natural or acquired, 
enable him to be either a better or a worse man, according 
as he lends himself to the service of the best or the worst 
of masters ; that is to say, he will be either better or worse 
than other men, in proportion to the means he possesses 



175 



of being so, and as his will is inclined in the application of 
them. Thus the very same means which by the renewed 
mind are made powerful auxiliaries in the service of 
religion, are by the lawless and disobedient turned into 
equally powerful aids in the planning and execution of 
every kind of wickedness. Hence the scholar under the 
influence of divine grace will generally be found to possess 
some advantages in the present life over the more simple 
and unlettered Christian; whilst, on the other hand, a 
learned sophist is the most dangerous of all sophists, and a 
wealthy and powerful, the most distinguished of all 
tyrants ; as a knowing and strong, will always excel the 
weak and less practised robber. 

I am aware that such cases as thou hast adduced 

of our dear and dignified friend , appear to form 

particular exceptions to that part of my theory which re- 
spects good men ; yet I think they do not amount to a 
general objection, for even he might have written a 
letter with less pain to himself, and perhaps with better 
purpose to his friends, had he been more liberally educated ; 
whilst it must be acknowledged that the manner in which 
this deficiency was supplied, both in meetings and in the 
social circle, was an astonishing instance of the effect of 
Divine influence upon a comparatively untutored mind. 
And what does this prove ? That the natural and legi- 
timate object and purpose of this influence is at once to 
rectify and refine the understanding, to purify and new 
create the heart ; and thus operating, to make both the 
mind and the person not only less repulsive but very 
agreeable. How sweet may we now and then observe the 
cast of that index, the countenance, to be even in indivi- 
duals labouring under every disadvantage, but that of im- 



176 



piety. I have beheld this high order of beauty in the de- 
formed, the aged, and the poor. 

Against the pride that " would be angel" it is doubtless 
proper to guard, but this appears to consist in a curious, 
aspiring, and too inquisitive disposition ; a philosophy 
falsely so called, that would be wise above that which is 
either written or revealed, which is more allied to folly 
than to wisdom, and just the reverse of cultivation and 
improvement. I do not think this need be any bar to the 
education of dear children according to the best under- 
standing and abilities of their parents, and with some view 
perhaps to the sphere of life in which they may have to 
move. 

After all, the longer I live the more I am persuaded by 
observation and experience, that in all our concerns, and 
especially that of bringing up our families, unless the Lord 
build the house, they labour in vain that build it ; and un- 
less He keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. 
The most anxious and assiduous parents can never make 
their offspring what they would have them to be, without 
a blessing upon their endeavours, and the co-operation of 
the children with both. Parents or guardians, therefore, 
seem to me to make but one of three parties ; but they are 
a party, and their office is important, especially in its ear- 
liest exercise. Let them then not neglect it, as in this 
case, whatever else may be the issue, they may expect 
peace in the retrospect of having endeavoured to do their 
duty ; yea, they may derive encouragement from the hope 
that their counsels, like bread cast on the waters, may be 
found after many days ; and that their prayers, their 
labour, and travail may be answered, even after they 
themselves are numbered with the silent dead. 



177 



Whilst I contemplate mental cultivation as holding a 
distinguished and essential part in raising our species from 
a savage to a civilized condition, I consider religion, the 
Christian religion, as that which, after education has done 
its best, can furnish, and only can furnish, the perfect model 
of accomplished man ; and this it effects by producing in 
the willing and obedient mind what the apostle Paul has 
appropriately called the fruits of the Spirit ; whilst on the 
reverse of the medal he has given us, as the fruits of the 
flesh, all that is affecting and deplorable in the picture of 
unchanged, and may we not add of unrefined nature, 
groaning under its terrible and unrelenting task-master — 
the Pharaoh of the soul. 



No. 98. To Joseph Gurney. 

1824, 1 mo, 17. — Thy saying, that in spirituals, thank- 
fulness thou hopest prevails, whilst of fruitfulness thou canst 
say little, but art still desiring to be content, suits me quite 
well. I too am I hope thankful, not for having perform- 
ed great or numerous works, I am sure, neither for any 
redundant sense of the best feelings, but rather that my 
life, both natural and spiritual, has hitherto been preserved 
from the power of a cruel and insidious enemy, who on 
the best authority is described as " going about continually, 
seeking whom he may devour;" and of whom we pro- 
bably have each of us known enough to be able, from ex- 
perience, to say with the apostle, we are not ignorant of 
his devices. 

I have often thought of poor Baruch, scribe to the pro- 
phet Jeremiah, the times in which he lived, and his fears 
excited thereby. This recollection has sometimes, when 

1 5 



178 



under discouragement, proved a stay and support to my 
mind, and has led me, instead of seeking great things of 
any kind for myself, to endeavour after an increase of 
patience in tribulation, if happily by such an acquiescence 
in griefs I cannot cure, I may, as was promised to that good 
man, have my life given me for a prey, in all places wherein 
it may appear my duty to stay or to go* Possibly thou 
mayst at times have known something like this : if not, do 
not hastily charge me with murmuring or complaining, 
which is so far from my desire that I had much rather 
assume continually, both in converse and in writing, that 
innocently cheerful air which some say religion should 
perpetually inspire ; but theory and fact will, in defiance 
of our best arrangements, sometimes disagree : and were 
there nothing else, age I believe begins to give me 44 its own 
complexion," so that I must not only feel as I can, but 
appear as I can, which I am often jealous is not with all 
the contentment and gratitude becoming a professed ad- 
mirer of the apostolic injunction, to 44 rejoice evermore, 
and in everything give thanks/' 

19th. — My youngest son, my two daughters, and myself, 
who now form my family, are at present in the enjoy- 
ment of usual health. We reside in the same house where 
I was born, which by a little retouching we have endea- 
voured to make a kind of comfortable cottage, and I 
believe I may say we have succeeded to our general con- 
tent. This is pleasant, as the taste of young and elderly 
folks often differs so much. By means of a pretty large 
bow- window, which being the half of a hexagon admits 
views to the E.N.E, and S»E., we have obtained a suffi- 
ciently light and commodious sitting-room, which is impor- 
tant to me for reading, and taking exercise when I cannot 



179 



conveniently take it abroad. We pass our long evenings 
partly with books. P. reads, his sisters work, and criticise 
the recent schoolboy, whilst I sit in my arm-chair as 
grand umpire, or referee in doubtful or difficult cases. 

If thou canst bear with me in my self-criticism 
I may add I have sometimes found a sweet satisfaction 
in allowing myself the time, and in submitting to the 
humiliation of exchanging a strong impression, which 
has first presented itself, for one of a gentler tone ; 
for though we may feel acutely, or think we see 
clearly, it does not therefore follow that we should express 
ourselves either as forcibly, or to the utmost extent our 
subject would bear. It perhaps is safer to have something 
in reserve, should we be pressed, or for our hearers or 
readers to supply ; and I believe that in a general way 
we obtain quite as much credit for our assertions, and find 
our way as easily into the heart by moderate, I do not 
mean col d and indifferent, language, as by that which is 
more assuming and vehement. 

No. 99. To Sarah Squire. 

1824, 3 mo. 24. — In extreme trial of our faith and pa- 
tience, what shall we say? what shall we do? Can we do bet- 
ter than bring our joys and our griefs, our hopes and our sor- 
rows, our crosses and our crowns, and let us not forget to add, 
our sins and infirmities, and thus weary and heavy laden, cast 
our burthen at the sacred footstool of the Most High, at- 
tended, should strength be afforded, with this brief, yet 
pathetic intercession, " Lord, have mercy, for thy dear Sons 
sake, upon a poor and most unworthy creature, who finds 
all other help, and all his own endeavours, without thy 



180 



blessing especially superadded, to be altogetlier unavail- 
ing." 

To act thus I think we are encouraged by the precepts 
of our dear Redeemer, by the general tenour of Scripture, 
by our former experience, and by the advice and exhortations 
of a cloud of witnesses, both among the living and the 
dead. Of the latter I think few are so distinguished bv 
beauty, excellence, and instruction as the letters of our 
late friend in religious profession, John Thorp. They in- 
deed seem peculiarly adapted to the present day of per- 
plexity and of treading down ; for such, however it may 
be as to the general state of society, it certainly is in the 
painful experience of many individuals, so that whether 
we look on the right hand or the left, before or behind us, 
we find ourselves surrounded by companions in tribulation. 
Oh ! that all who are thus afflicted may prove compa- 
nions also in that faith and patience, which shall ultimately 
have the victory, and obtain the crown immortal as their 
reward ! 

Xo. 100. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1824, 3 7UO. 26. — I am ready to conclude, that there 
never was in any human breast a more settled contempt 
and aversion than in mine, to those peculiarities of our re- 
ligious profession which I once chose to denominate (in 
what spirit I leave thee to judge) the badges of Quaker- 
ism ; so much for education without grace. Whereas, 
now I am ready to think that few, if any, rejoice more 
sincerely than I do, to see any of my friends faithful, not 
superstitious, in the observance even of the minor points of 
our law ; seeing that the least of them have their relations, 
and form links in the chain. And I am further willing to 



181 

take a little credit for at least the belief that no one feels, 
according to his capacity of feeling, a more tender sym- 
pathy for those who are thus exercised under self-denial 
and the daily cross, from the remembrance of conflicts 
which I have endured, surely never to be forgotten, on this 
deeply interesting subject. 

No. 101. To JOSIAH FoRSTER, 

1824, 5 mo. 7- — Whilst I hope I am not wanting in a 
general love of mankind, or of charity towards the mem- 
bers of other religious communities, I find that the talent 
(for I scarcely dare speak in the plural) committed to my 
trust, if I rightly apprehend it, confines my attention 
very much within the limits of our own borders. Here 
indeed I am well aware my obvious labours have been 
very far from extensive ; — not so I trust my inward exer- 
cise, — for since being awakened to a sense of the import- 
ance of my own salvation, identifying myself with a people 
to whose principles I am not more by education than by 
judgment attached, my spiritual strength and my mental 
solicitude have been very much absorbed in feelings, per- 
haps not wholly dissimilar to those from whence proceeded 
the plaintive cry of old, " Spare thy people, 0 Lord ! and 
give not thy heritage to reproach :" indeed I have been 
almost exclusively occupied in this secret path, as whatever 
may be my inclination, I find little opportunity for much 
personal attention to any of the numerous good things that 
are now going forward, having for their laudable object the 
improvement of the world, and that upon an extensive scale. 

For when I would willingly unite in any of these pub- 
lic engagements, and could desire to rejoice in the reports, 



182 



which, somewhat like " songs from the uttermost parts of 
the earth/' I hear of their success, my thoughts are almost 
instantly called home to the scattered remnant of my own 
society, into which again merging, the language of Woe 
is me ! my leanness ! my leanness ! frequently and spon- 
taneously arises. 

I should be sorry to entertain, and still more sorry to 
propagate, too discouraging a view of things ; and though 
that which I am now taking is not at my own command, 
and is one of which I cannot entirely divest myself, yet I 
am quite willing to hope it may be of more local than uni- 
versal application. 

Our dear friend George Withy, however, who was here 
last summer, had a little to counteract this fear, by saying 
in a very small gathering, at which I was present, that he 
seldom sat down with friends so few in number but that 
he found somewhat worth preserving. These expressions 
were encouraging to me at the time, and are still precious in 
my remembrance, as I neither expect a higher station, nor de- 
sire a better reward than that of those who mourn in Zion. 
How full of consolation to the respective classes to which 
they are particularly addressed, are the beatitudes of the 
dear Redeemer ! May we aspire after no greater commen- 
dation, benefit, or dignity, than to be found among the 
favoured subjects of them, even at the price proposed, 
which I think we may in one word denominate self-renun- 
ciation. 



No. 102. To Joseph Gurney. 



1824, 9 mo. 29. — I notice the expression of thy desire 
that our young friends might be able to see their Creator 



183 



in every part of his visible works. I think this would be 
good both for youth and age ; and I therefore love to con- 
template creation, not only in its parts, but in its origin, as 
described with dignified simplicity, some say with equally 
sound philosophy, in the first chapter of Genesis. Indeed 
there is nothing that stumbles or offends even my reason 
in supposing that a Being, infinitely wise, good, and 
powerful, should delight in the communication of exist- 
ence, life, order, beauty, and happiness, with a view to his 
own glory in the perfection of his intelligent creature, 
man ; for though this may not be the whole, I think it 
will be generally allowed to form a material part of the vast, 
the incomprehensible design. 

I therefore sometimes delight, with such limited means 
as I possess, to trace creation to its source, which I would 
call a simple act of free and benevolent volition in its 
Author, who, by a fiat thus begotten, " called for things 
that were not," and they instantly " were so that, accord- 
ing to the apostle, " things which are seen were not made of 
things which do appear." Is it not, my friend, interesting 
thus to go back even to the formation of matter itself ; but 
is it not surpassing wonder to consider the infinitely various 
modifications of this simple material, dust, as exhibited to 
us by our senses of seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, and 
smelling ? In this way I think, whilst concealing Himself 
behind the veil of his own works from mortal vision, may 
be clearly seen by the eye of faith, an omnipotent, omni- 
scient, and omnipresent Deity, by whom we are most inti- 
mately surrounded, and in whom we literally live, and 
move, and have our being, a God over all, in all, and 
through all, holy and blessed and reverend is his name ; and 
that before time was, whilst it continues, and when it shall 
be no longer. 



184 



No. 103. To J. J. Gurnet. 

Spalding r , 1824, 10 rno. 14. — I want to tell thee how 
frequently and fervently those desires of which I gave thee 
but an imperfect idea at Fulbeck, continue to ascend to 
the Father of mercies and God of all comfort for thy wel- 
fare every way, — that in heights and in depths, in pros- 
perity and adversity, in health and in sickness, in weakness 
and in strength, amidst the smiles of thy friends or the 
frowns of those who may not wish thee so well, He, the 
universal Parent, may preserve, defend, and spare thee, 
even as a man spareth his own son who serveth him. 

But whilst I am thus concerned to console and strengthen, 
I would also drop this general word of exhortation, — that 
seeing it is only by grace that we any of us are what we 
are, we must therefore be ever careful to render the undi- 
vided honour of any good work that may be wrought by, 
or through us, to the Author of it. And if ever the palm 
of victory, or the meed of praise should, with better inten- 
tion than judgment, be presented to us by our frail fellow- 
mortals, who are sometimes found to be feeble as frail, let 
us on these occasions be careful to cast every crown, at- 
tainment, or possession upon the altar of sacrifice, as a 
whole and entire burnt-offering, that there, being tried by 
fire, and purged from dross and defilement, they may not 
only ascend with acceptance in a cloud of sweet incense 
before the throne of the Most High, but may procure for 
the prostrate suppliant a return, not of the turbulent emo- 
tions of an unsanctified and selfish pleasure, but of those 
holier feelings of quietness and assurance, which are at 
once the evidence and the foretaste of a future inheritance, 
incorruptible and that fadeth not away, — reserved in hea- 



185 



ven for those who by patient continuance in well doing, 
seek for glory, honour, and immortality ; — but let us re- 
member, that the glory and honour here intended are to 
come hereafter, and must be sought for by present self-re- 
nunciation, and by ascribing every good and perfect gift, as 
well as the fruits of it, to God alone. 

At Broughton meeting on first-day I was reminded of 
those assemblies formerly whereof it was said, that the 
power of the Lord was present to heal the gathered people. 
I thought I clearly perceived that there was yet balm in 
Gilead, that there was yet a physician there ; and under 
these impressions, in my brief way, I had to invite the 
sick, the maimed, the halt, and the blind to come and be 
cured of their respective maladies. 

No. 104. To Joseph Gurney. 

1824, 10 mo. 27. — In a select opportunity, a little before 
we parted from thy nephew, I found myself unexpectedly 
arrested, somewhat as thou describest thyself, in an inter- 
view with William Allen, soon after the death of his 
lovely, beloved, and only child. I was indeed a good deal 
broken ; a thing with me of not very frequent occurrence 
but which I never regret ; — because the heart of man, I 
will not say mine exclusively, knowing thou dost not like 
much speaking of ourselves, even on the subject of humi- 
liation, and I really cannot defend it ; — I therefore content 
myself with querying if, in despite of the melting of fire, 
the stroke of the hammer, or the hewing of the sword, the 
human heart has not still a tendency to petrifaction — a 
sort of gravitating principle towards that rock of adamant, 
whence it may again and again have been detached by one 



186 



or all the powerful operations alluded to ? May it not then 
be necessary that these be occasionally repeated, lest we 
should unhappily return to our original cold, hard, and in- 
sensible state, "an evil heart of unbelief"? 

We, elders, may apprehend there is cause for gratitude, 
when these breakings in upon us happen either in our pri- 
vate retirements or in the presence of few and chosen wit- 
nesses, that the dear children and little ones be neither 
offended nor discouraged ; but by seeing our abasement as 
respects ourselves, I think we may be thankful for these as 
among the appointed means, which, in the ordering of Pro- 
vidence, are dispensed for our furtherance in the great work 
of sanctification and redemption. 

No. 105. To Sarah Squire. 

1824, 10 mo. 28. — Under a renewed and lively sense of 
the many difficulties and dangers attendant on our pilgrim- 
age through this world, and the certainty, if left to our- 
selves, of our falling by some of them, or by the joint pres- 
sure of them all, which at seasons, like a flood, threatens to 
overwhelm us ; — under an exercise thus produced on my 
own account, for I also am still a son of tribulation, I have 
been afresh led to crave of the " Father of mercies, and God 
of all comfort," that He would be graciously pleased to 
grant preservation, not only to myself, but to thee, and to 
all those of his children and servants, who, notwithstanding 
their unworthiness, are yet of his family, and it may be 
for the trial of their faith and patience, are with us still 
deeply afflicted. I have begged that in an especial man- 
ner He would send help from his sanctuary, and strengthen 
these out of Zion, in those cases of extremity, when nothing 



187 



less than his appearing, though in his own way and time, 
on their behalf, can avail them anything, being brought to 
an utter despair of their own efforts, and in the very depths 
of self-abasement and humiliation prepared to adopt the 
language of the Psalmist, " Unless the Lord build the house, 
they labour in vain that build it ; unless the Lord keep 
the city, the watchman waketh but in vain." 

In thus pouring forth my petitions to the Preserver of 
men, and commending myself and my dear friends to his 
holy care and protection, I have found some relief by the 
renewal of a hope that, after all He has done for some of 
us, He will not now suffer us to perish ; but though He 
may even prove us as He proved his faithful Abraham, or 
try us as He tried his afflicted servant, whose pathetic 
query thou hast been ready to adopt, " Why died I not V 
yet it is not his intention, nor consistent with his promises, 
finally to forsake us : — for, said the apostle James, in di- 
rect allusion to the diversified experience of this very man, 
" Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the 
end of the Lord : that the Lord is very pitiful, and of ten- 
der mercy/* 

I have also been renewedly confirmed and comforted by 
reading 2 Cor. iv., from which, and from an attentive peru- 
sal of the whole of that Epistle, we may see how marvel- 
lous were the dealings of the Most High in the sufferings, 
exercises, abasements, and deliverances of his most tried, 
yet most favoured children, the early converts to Christi- 
anity. 

Thou and I have communed on these subjects heretofore, 
but as they still seem deeply to concern us, we may revive 
them again with the view, the allowable view I trust, of 
strengthening and building each other up in "our most 



188 



holy faith,'"'' the trials of which He. who doubtless for some 
good end permits them. — He, and He only knoweth the 
number, the nature, and the depth. But what a consola- 
tion that we have an Advocate with the Father, who seeth 
us altogether as we are. who is touched with a feeling of 
our infirmities, and having been tempted like onto us. 
knows how to succour us in all our temptations ! 

No. 106. To J. and H. C. Backhouse. 

1824. 11 mo. 25. — I lately passed a day at Lynn 
Monthly Meeting with your father and mother. J. and J. 
G., very satisfactorily to myself. On a retrospect of this 
sweet interview. I have been ready thus to soliloquize. 
0 religion, amidst all thy charms, thy benefits, and thy 
blessings, how inestimable are thy friendships ! If out 
poor, fallen, and degraded nature has any feelings better 
than the rest, they must surely be the social, but how are 
these exalted and refined by the influence of Christian 
principles ! 

No. 107. To J. J. Gurnet, 

1824. 12 mo. 3. — I seldom contemplate the life and 
writings of the apostle Paul but with a mixture of won- 
der, sympathy, and delight, and even in my present views 
of them am ready to exclaim. 0 Christianity, how do 
thy realities exceed the very fictions of romance ! Thou 
art indeed the potent alchymist. who changes: human 
rockwork into man ■ nor dost thou stop here, but after 
havino; thus converted him. by a further transmutation, 
peculiarly thy own. thou refinest him as silver is refined, and 



189 



triest him as gold is tried, until, as the operations of thy 
furnace are submitted to, he at length cometh forth more 
pure than fine gold, yea, than the golden wedge of Ophir. 

Having mentioned prayer, though there is not among 
my religious acquaintance an individual to whom I should 
consider the recommendation of this duty more superfluous ; 
yet on the very delicate subject thou hast hinted at, a re- 
newal of thy domestic comfort, a thing which in the Lord's 
way and time I think is to be devoutly wished ; — on this 
important question I was about to say, that if by any 
means a more than ordinary depth and fervency in prayer 
can be come at, it is surely wanted here. For it has 
seemed to me that it is not so difficult even rightly to 
petition for another or for the whole world as for our- 
selves. Self-love in one shape or other, and I have 
thought in no case more likely than the present, is so apt 
to bewilder us, and to insinuate itself into the most secret 
recesses, or if we may use the expression, into the very 
sanctuary of our hearts ; so that, especially when looking 
with allowable desire towards the highest favours a gra- 
cious Providence bestows, it may be needful for us in 
the first place to ask for wisdom, understanding, and self- 
renunciation, in order that we may prefer our petitions 
for the things we think we stand in need of with proper 
subserviency to the Divine will. 

I stopped over first-day at Downham to my satisfaction, 
though the family in which I passed most of my time was 
in a state of suspense, I might almost say of mourning. 
Poor J. D. appeared to me to be quite in the latter stage 
of life, and I find by a letter from his sister H. C. that 
his weakness has increased since I was there. To behold 
a fine young man, in defiance of human efforts, encircled 



190 



by those to whom I find he has greatly endeared himself, 
thus gradually declining was truly affecting ; and I never 
remember being more struck with the force of those 
Scriptural figures which compare frail humanity to 
withering grass, fading flowers, or a vapour that appeareth 
for a little while, and then vanisheth away, &c. 0 Time ! 
if thou wert our all, if our hopes and our prospects ended 
w T ith thee, then might the stoutest heart and the loftiest 
spirit sink into utter dismay. But thanks be to God ! 
this is not our unhappy case ; a better inheritance, a more 
enduring substance, a house not made with hands, a city 
which hath foundations ; in a word, a mansion in the 
heavens is in reserve for all those who by patient con- 
tinuance in well-doing seek for glory, honour, and im- 
mortality. 



No. 108. To Sarah A. Harris. 



1824, 12 mo. 6. — How refined are the enjoyments and 
how extensive are the resources of the mind ! Over these 
time and place, with all their attendant vicissitudes, seem 
to have comparatively but little power. This observation 
holds, I think, in a very considerable degree throughout all 
that really deserves the name of friendship ; whilst, if I am 
not mistaken, it is found to be true in a still larger sense in 
the important concerns of religion; from whose Sun of 
righteousness, the beams of light ineffable are found to per- 
vade alike the palace and the prison; from whose fountain 
of living waters refreshment extends to every heart pre- 
pared to receive them, whether the subject be an inhabitant 
of the lone land, as thy friend, or of the city full, whether 



191 

he be cast on the wild or the ocean, or enjoying the highest 
privilege of man, he be found in the solemn assembly of the 
Lord's visibly gathered people. 

I am aware that I am addressing one but lately entered 
on that stage of life which is generally thought to promise 
the most of human happiness. But I never can think 
that this happiness is lessened by a true estimate of its 
nature, which appears to me to be at once dependent and 
contingent. If it be asked upon what ? My reply is, 
upon the will and wisdom of that Power which formed 
and rules the world, under whose protection and authority 
only, though these are often inscrutably administered, is 
there to be found either peace or security, the foundation 
of happiness, for any of us. 



No. 109. To J. and H. C. Backhouse. 



1824, 12 77io. 13. — I can scarcely forbear mentioning that 
dear H.'s expressions of thanksgiving on the death of your 
child, has reminded me forcibly of the apostolic exhorta- 
tion, " Rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks." 
It has reminded me also of my own experience under a 
similar trial, when after watching for several days the ill- 
ness of my oldest daughter, who nearly fourteen years ago 
died at Selby, of water in the head, at the age of fifteen, the 
disorder at length reached a crisis, wherein it was thought 
best for me to leave the sick-room : I did so, but could 
not be easy without returning. This procured for me 
an intelligent and seraphic smile, for she was speechless, 
observed only by myself; but which I would not have 
missed for any consideration in my power. I then again 



192 



and finally left her; and in a few minutes afterwards 
being informed that she had ceased to breathe, was suddenly- 
enabled alone, and amidst a flood of nature's tears, to utter 
this short ejaculation, " I thank Thee, Father." 

I cannot tell what those who consider reason as the 
only guide and chief good of man would make of such 
conduct as this. I think it was not an effect of leaning to 
my own understanding ; and certainly not to my own in- 
clination ; for I would willingly have kept my child, upon 
whom, after the decease of her mother, I had placed much 
expectation and hope, which she seemed likely to realise. 
To what then must we ascribe this ? Perhaps to the influence 
of that Spirit which helpeth our infirmities ; and which, 
surmounting nature, teaches us not only to pray, but to 
praise and return thanks aright. What indeed short of 
this gentle yet powerful agency, can bring such poor 
creatures as we are to adopt in sincerity and truth this 
pious sentiment of Young, " For all we bless Thee, most 
for the severe" ? 

No. 110. To Sarah Squire. 

1825, 1 mo. 15. — How desirable it is that under any 
ministry, " the heart of the righteous should not be made 
sad, whom the Lord would not make sad," nor " the hands 
of the disobedient strengthened by promising him life !" 
And in order that this may not take place, it does seem 
very needful, that the hearer, no less than the preacher, 
keep close to the heavenly gift or guide, that so the word 
delivered may not only be dispensed aright, but received 
aright, and by those only to whom it belongs. For I be- 
lieve it is by the application of the Spirit bearing witness 



193 

with our spirit, that either reading or ministry is made 
useful to us, whether it be in the way of reproof, instruc- 
tion, or comfort. It is then very needful for us to guard 
against judging ourselves, favourably or unfavourably, 
because here the busy enemy is almost sure to insinuate 
himself into our reasonings, and either lift us up, cast us 
down, or grievously perplex and distract us, as our hopes, 
our fears, or our imaginations may afford him the oppor- 
tunity. 

I am indeed thankful when permitted to partake of 
u the crumbs y and this was so much the case on the 
morning I received thy letter, that the whole contents of 
my heart seemed to be compressed into these short, but 
deeply-felt ejaculations, Lord, save me ! save my dear 
children ! save thy afflicted ones, wherever they are ! I 
beseech Thee ! 

Xo. 111. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1825, 3 mo, 18. — When by a course of exercise neither 
the most shallow nor gratifying, I am introduced into 
humiliation, my thoughts sometimes revert to thee as to 
one with whom I may commune siceetly, (for even bitter 
things are sweet in connexion with Jesus,) yet sadly, first, 
on the sorrows and sufferings of the dear Eedeemer ; next, 
| on our own, and then perhaps on those of our sincere, yet 
, unworthy fellow-travellers heavenward. For without 
i laying claim to pre-eminence in this particular — unworthy 
in their own sight, I think all must be, when from this 
lower world they only contemplate as through a distant 
I and obscure vision, that perfection of beauty and of holi- 

K 



194 



ness, before the immediate effulgence whereof even angels 
are said to veil their faces. 

We are sometimes told that it is not good to say much 
of our unworthiness, &c, lest we thereby discourage 
those who from the infancy of their experience may be 
compared to children or little ones. Undoubtedly a care 
is requisite not only on this account, but that we may not 
get into a superficial habit amounting to little more than 
the image or affectation of humility ; and yet as there are 
times and seasons for all things, so I believe there are oc- 
casions when those who " fear the Lord and think upon 
his name," may, as in former times, speak together on any 
subject connected with their allegiance to Him, their love 
one towards another, or their mutual edification. And it 
may possibly come under some of these descriptions to be 
now and then convinced by a little insight into a compa- 
nion's secret path, even should it be a tribulated one, that 
we are not, as perhaps we had in low seasons imagined, 
alone, and that nothing has befallen us that is not common 
to man, or that is not probably at the present moment 
beino' fulfilled in others of our brethren and sisters who 
are in this world. 

No. 112. To J. J. Gurney. 

1825, 6 77io. 20. — I find the enemy of peace seems yet 
at work to disquiet and unsettle my mind, both by true 
and false suggestions. One of the former description 
which presses me the hardest at present is, the very small 
part I am taking, or can take, in those distinguished works 
of religion, justice, and humanity which so strongly mark 



195 



the present day ; and that therefore, after all I have seen, 
heard, or .felt, there is considerable danger of my being 
ultimately classed either with the fearful and unbelieving, 
or with the slothful servants. 

In answer to this, I plead not with my adversary, but 
at the footstool of mercy, the spiritual impossibility of my 
going with any prospect of advantage, or indeed without 
danger, beyond my measure, or out of the line prescribed 
to me, however limited this maybe, as well as the physical 
difficulty of declining years. Thus impressed, I beg, with 
humble and earnest solicitude I trust, that although I 
may not be able to assist Martha in her much-serving, the 
part of Mary may never be taken from me. Ah ! my dear 
friend, whatever thou mayst approve or disapprove in me, 
join me, if thou canst, in desiring that at a season when 
weary nature sighs for repose, this part, this blessed part 
may never be taken from me. 

No. 113. To J. AND J. GrURNEY. 

Selby, 1825, 7 mo, 4.— I may just now be the better 
qualified to address you in particular with a salutation of 
love and of peacS, from experiencing, after a season of con- 
flicting feelings, a degree of quietness and confidence re- 
stored to my often-agitated heart. Ah ! my valued fel- 
low-travellers, how is it that some of us so frequently find 
occasion to query with ourselves as David did, " Why art 
[ thou cast down, 0 my soul?" but the why and the where- 
fore are doubtless wisely hid from us, and it remains for us 
with the Psalmist to " hope in God, and to let our expec- 
tation be only from Him but how difficult sometimes is 

k2 



196 

this lesson ! I am not. However, disposed to complain of 
this or any other difficulty, but rather to be thankful for 
the door of hope, which I have once more found as in the 
valley of Achor, or shall I say, in a state of humiliation 
and prayer ? 

I am now seated on the banks of the Ouse, in my son s 
new establishment, just upon a fine turn of that river. 
From the windows, though the country is flat, we have 
some picturesque scenery, composed of both natural and 
artificial objects. Of the former, green banks, cattle, pine- 
wood, and water ; and amongst the latter, shipping, a 
good bridge, warehouses, cranes, commerce, the activity of 
a poit, and as a countryman may be allowed to say, " the 
varied lumber of a town," which may do for a change, but 
for him it would not do always. 

Xo. 114. To J. and K. Foster. 

1825. 7 11. — It need not surprise us, if a friendship, 
disinterested as I think ours has been from its commence- 
ment, should be rather mellowed than impaired by time; 
or in other words, if that love which began in natural 
affinities and associations, should be improved by some- 
thing better : and that if we are favoured to grow in 
grace, the operation of this sublime principle will not only 
add to, but ratify and purify every amiable and good dis- 
position whereof we are capable, of which love to God 
and love to each other will be acknowledged to stand 
foremost. And judging by the tenderness with which of 
later time I often remember you, in connexion with the 
great uncertainty of our all meeting again in mutability, I 
have thought it possible that the feelings to which I have 



197 



alluded may not only exist, but have an infinite expansion 
beyond the grave. I am aware, however, that this is 
among the secret things which it is not given us in our 
present state to know ; yet the contemplation is so delight- 
ful to the Christian, and the hope so prevalent in the 
breast wherein at seasons hope deigns to make its abode, 
that it is difficult, and I trust not necessary, to dismiss 
either one or the other entirely from our minds. 

I have mentioned hope, by which I mean the hope 
which maketh not ashamed, and which rests entirely on 
the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, as an occasional rather 
than a constant visitant, for such indeed I find it. Yes, 
my dear friends, to you I am free to confess that there are 
times when a remembrance of the sins of my youth, a 
sense of present infirmities, and a feeling of utter unwor- 
thiness of Divine regard, so press upon me, that whilst I 
cannot hope, I feel it to be too awful a thing to despair. 
Thus circumstanced, I find the only alternative to be, wait- 
ing in as much stillness as I can, and watching unto 
prayer, for the return of that morning light, before 
which the mists of the night flee away ; and which, as 
patience has been sufficiently abode in, has never yet, and 
I trust never will, deceive or disappoint me, though I 
may sometimes, at least according to my own limited con- 
ceptions, have had to wait long. 

I express myself on this important subject with the 
greater freedom, because of the humble spiritual views 
which I believe you entertain of yourselves, — because of 
those castings down and disquietings whereof David 
speaks, and to which the weight of years may make you 
increasingly subject ; and lastly, because of my own expe- 
rience \n these deep humiliations ; — being at the present 



198 



juncture just emerging from one of those darksome 
plunges to which I have alluded, and from which, had I 
not been thus favoured a little to ascend, it is not probable 
you would now have heard from me. As it is, and I 
hope you will be enabled to rejoice with me, I have been 
enabled to adopt, as a morning hymn of thanksgiving 
and praise, much of the beautiful language of the one 
hundred and third Psalm, which you will find on perusal 
to be full of consolation and encouragement to the exer- 
cised mind. 



No. 115. To Joseph Gurney. 

Sdhy^ 1825, 8 mo. 16. — How sweet is the balm of 
friendship- and what a blessing is a friend! are expres- 
sions which have almost spontaneously arisen, on turning 
my mind towards one with whom I sometimes divide its 
comforts, and ofttimes its cares. And though there may 
be a great deal of selfishness in the apportionment, yet am 
I not thereby much discouraged ; for being no stoic, and I 
fear but a very imperfect Christian, I am quite willing to 
confess myself a poor, selfish creature, standing in need 
not only of Divine assistance, but of the sympathy and 
prayers of my fellow-members in the church. But even 
this view, though it humbles, does not affiict me ; for if 
we are favoured to reach those happy shores to which we 
profess to be bound, it shall not matter to how many helps 
we have been indebted, or how many mortifications we 
have met with in the course of our voyage. Indeed the 
very circumstances of Divine strength having been mani- 
fested in such utter weakness, and the most perfect attri- 
butes being exalted in and over such manifold infirmities, 



199 



may possibly in a glorified state compose the ecstatic theme 
of our loftiest anthems, swell the notes of praise, and lend 
to our celestial harps their sweetest and their loudest 
tones. 

This is not, I think, a flight of fancy, but an effusion of 
genuine feeling, produced by the changes in which I have 
been involved since I last wrote to thee, which was from 
this house. I was then participating, with much satisfac- 
tion, in the happiness of my children. Within about the 
last three weeks, I have been summoned to attend the 
funerals of two nieces, their maternal first-cousins. 

The first of these affecting cases was of Mary, the wife 
of Joseph Burtt, of Welboum, who has left an affiicted 
husband and nine children. In her, nature was exhausted, 
but she appeared to die in sweet peace ; and the prevailing 
impression on my mind respecting her was, that although 
a poor, emaciated body was left us for a moment to mourn 
over, yet her immortal spirit was assuredly ascended to 
that God, who had in wisdom sent it hither, and in mercy 
called it home. Her character in life was much retired, — 
a flower that blushed unseen ; but to the very few wdio had 
an opportunity of viewing it closely, and who could ap- 
preciate hidden worth, it was one of the fairest hue and 
sweetest fragrance. 

The other instance was in Mary, wife of William Massey, 
jun., of this place, who after a few days of not very confining 
illness, was suddenly snatched as from the arms of her 
husband and ah infant of about eight months old. She 
was interred here last first-day, a great concourse of neigh- 
bours, by whom she was respected, and many friends from 
York, &c, attending on the occasion. Among the latter 
were W. and A. A., and it proved, I thought, a day of 



200 



much favour, both immediate and instrumental. I never 
remember hearing religion placed at once in a more lovely 
and important point of view. It reminded me of the in- 
vitation to " the poor, the maimed, and the blind/' which 
was to compel them to a feast of fat things. Forgetting 
for the time all obstructions and excuses, I was ready to 
say in my heart, Surely none can refuse such gracious offers 
of mercy. But alas ! alas ! Leviathan is not so tamed, is 
not so charmed ; yet though this may appear to be the 
ease generally, we are not to conclude that our labours in 
the Gospel are in vain. I think there is much encourage- 
ment to believe otherwise from the language of the Most 
High by his prophet, " My word shall not return unto me 
void; but it shall accomplish that which I please, and 
shall prosper in that whereto I send it." 

No. 116. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1825, 8 mo. 22. — If thou regard this letter in all its 
parts, as I think thou must, as a true portrait of a feeble 
old man, I need not give thee any further account of my 
present state, than just to say that were it not for grace 
within and the Scriptures without, I seem as if I must 
yet sink : but thus supported, what may not even such an 
one hope ! I was last evening much comforted and encou- 
raged by hearing my son read in his family the first six 
chapters in the second to the Corinthians. What love 
and sympathy at this distance of time we sometimes feel 
for eminent Scripture characters ! I think mine runs the 
strongest towards Paul and David, always reserving an 
unmeasured and indescribable portion for the once-suffer- 
ing, now glorified Redeemer, to whom with the Father be 



201 



all honour, thanksgiving, and praise, in time and in eter- 
nity ! 

Xo. 117* To Sarah Squire. 

1825, 9 mo. 22. — Since I last wrote to thee, indeed for 
nearly the last twelvemonths, I have had but little entire 
rest for body or mind, which as I have often been sensible 
of weariness, may possibly in some degree have weakened 
both one and the other. But this is a thing of minor con- 
sequence ; and I think it a favour to be permitted to de- 
scend the hill so gently, and if I may but be further 
allowed to pass the dark valley at the bottom of it in 
safety, it will be a still greater mercy. 

Of my various excursions within the passing year, none 
have seemed to require credentials from my friends ; and 
yet I think I may truly say, they have not been under- 
taken from mere motives of self-gratification ; and I hope 
it has been my uniform endeavour to consecrate them in 
some degree by an attention to the feeling of sympathy or 
the pointings of duty, whenever I could discern them, and 
both one and the other were I thought at times vouchsafed 
to me, especially in the more hidden and private cases of 
afflicted individuals, of which number, under various cir- 
cumstances of trial, I found several in the course of my 
peregrinations, tending to confirm me in a sentiment, the 
truth of which I might have long since sufficiently known, 
that life is a pilgrimage, and not a rest. How many are 
there, up and down, v>ho are daily experiencing the fulfil- 
ment of their dear Redeemers assurance, that in the world 
they shall have trouble ! May they also witness Him to 



202 



overcome the world in them, and for them, — for truly 
besides Him there is no Saviour. 



No. 118. To Sarah Squire. 

1825, 10 mo, 22. — After endeavouring to do the best 
we can in providing for, educating, and placing them out, 
we must leave our children to the Lord and their own con- 
duct ; as after all our labours, and with the Divine blessing 
upon these labours, they may if they will, as some unhap- 
pily do, forsake their own mercies, and pursue a wrong 
course. Yet this consideration does not supersede the dis- 
charge of parental duty ; — but it should, I think, tend to 
lessen unprofitable solicitude and vain anticipations of 
things, that may, or may not ever happen ; and whether 
they do or do not, are quite beyond our control. So that j 
after doing, more than thinking, what we can for our be- 
loved offspring, and as every pious parent is concerned to 
do, commending them to the care of Israel's unslumbering 
Shepherd ; there and to their own determinations we must 
finally leave them, Thou mayst perceive how much stress I 
lay upon the right exercise of mans free agency ; for- though 
it is true that merey is infinite, and its offers may be often 
repeated, yet no man is compelled to accept them : he that 
will not, shall not inherit the kingdom. 

Strong and lively impression is often made by very few 
words, so that if we know how to extract it, we shall some- 
times find the essence of long letters, long discourses, and 
large volumes is comprised in a very small portion of each.. ' 
Do not however mistake me, if I can remember or digest 
but little at a time, others may have stronger powers ; and 



203 



as it respects religious communications, one tPiing is cer- 
tain, that the attributes of the Most High and the myste- 
ries of his redeeming love are inexhaustible themes. 

Having been helped hitherto, let us be thankful for mer- 
cies past, and humbly hope for more ; rejoicing, if we can, in 
our present lot, and in everything giving thanks. This 
may be, and I believe often is, a difficult attainment ; yet 
it is not impossible, through the aid of Him who is touched 
with a feeling of our infirmities ; and for his assistance it 
is our business to watch and to pray continually. I think 
I never recollect feeling more truly thankful in the re- 
membrance even of affliction and trials, as means of hum- 
bling my proud and corrupt heart, than just when I was 
about to enter a meeting at Sutton the other day, which 
finished my little concerns in that neighbourhood, and re- 
turned me to Gedney, with a portion of sweet and most 
unmerited peace. Ah ! how unworthy is man ! but how 
inconceivably and eternally worthy is his Creator and his 
Redeemer of all glory, adoration, and praise ! 



No. 119. To J. J. Gurney. 

1825, 11 mo, 19. — Thou knowest how insulated my 
situation is as to the outward, and it is often equally so 
within ; so that there are seasons wherein I seem cut off, 
or shut up from all that lives. Still even in this impri- 
soned situation, I have looked towards the Lord's holy 
habitation with desire, and towards his people with love. 

Thou hast alluded in one of thy letters to the trials 
peculiar to Gospel ministers. One thing I find under all, 
that my attachment to my friends of this class becomes 



204 



increasingly strong and tender, and either in kind or de- 
gree, very different to what I was accustomed to feel whilst 
only in the office of an elder. I honour faithful elders, 
and think they are useful in religious society, in reprovinz- 
informing, and perhaps encouraging us : yet there are 
sympathies towards each other, of which we only seem to 
be capable, 

It is sometimes my experience to feel deeply for such of 
my dear friends in the ministry as may be said to be under 
their probation ; or having passed this stage, are yet under 
circumstances too nearly approaching those described by 
the apostle. 1 Cor. iv. 9 — 13. Such individuals I am ac- 
quainted with ; and I feel desirous not only for them, but 
for myself and all our fellows, that we may not only be 
willing, when thereunto called, to enter into these humili- 
ations, but to abide patiently under them for the allotted 
season : that being thus crucified with Christ — is it not 
crucifixion? — we may know what it is to rise with Him. 
I am sometimes even thankful that a part in this ministry, 
however limited, has been, as I trust, committed to me. 
that so I might be permitted to partake with those of 
larger gifts in their tribulations, and not in their tribula- 
tions only, but in their consolations also. For although it 
be indeed true that the former of these do often abound, 
yet let us not be so ungrateful as to forget that the latter 
do much more abound, through Jesus Christ our Lord, to 
the glory of God the Father. 

No. 120. To J. J. Gurnet, 

1825, 12 mo. 12. — The impression— and it is not a 
superficial one — -which I have received from being in- 



205 



formed of thy being about an immediate commencement 
of renewed Gospel engagement is, that thou art going 
forth, if not literally weeping, at least in a disposition which 
entitles the obedient and faithful servant to take encou- 
ragement from the language of Psalm xxvi. verses 5 and 6 : 
" I have hated the congregation of evil doers ; and will 
not sit with the wicked. I will wash mine hands in in- 
nocency : so will I compass thine altar, 0 Lord." Through 
humble watchfulness, and the mercy of Him who hath 
called and redeemed us by his own blood, may these sus- 
taining assurances be verified in the experience of my dear 
friend, who may rest also certain of any remembrances of 
mine that can possibly avail him. 

Dear A. and his near connexions ! We may feel for, 
yet cannot help them, but by our sympathy and our 
prayers : such is the lot of humanity : — and " so vain ' 
as I understand thy two emphatic words to mean, is any 
wish of ours to reverse the irrevocable sentence inscribed 
upon all terrestrial enjoyments ; or with fallacious hopes 
to lay the foundations of a continuing city here : so true 
it is, they build too low, who build beneath the skies, 
We are also frequently reminded, and is it not a consoling 
and instructive memento, that 

"Tis immortality — 'tis that alone, 
Amid life's pains — abasements — emptiness, 
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill." 

No. 121. To J. J. Gurney. 

1 826, 1 mo. 26. — A token of thy continued remembrance 
and regard could scarcely have been more welcome than 



206 



was the one which I received from thee within the last few 
days. By the side of those " rivers ' where I am often 
stationed, with my harp on the willows, ready to weep for 
myself and the little captive church to which I am so 
closely attached, — here thy letter found me, and having 
no song of my own, save the hidden and passive one of 
resignation, I had concluded to beguile my solitude by 
reading and contemplating the prosaic melody of thy 
" Essays." Whilst thus employed, Eachel opened the 
door of my parlour with thy messenger in her hand : 
could there be a nicer coincidence ? perhaps it was useful 
too, for though my situation was tranquil, yet probably I 
had been sailing long enough down the stream, and it 
might be time for me to bring to and endeavour to feel for 
the bottom. Ah ! how much oftener than the returning 
morning have we need, both in auspicious and adverse 
gales, to cast anchor on the " Rock of Ages !" Canst thou 
understand a language which half the world would call 
mysticism and nonsense ? I believe thou hast thyself been 
long enough acquainted with this " foolishness," (for " we 
see our calling,") to understand it perfectly. 

How sweetly, as thy expressions and my own feelings 
persuade me, do we unite in the love one of another, and 
of that principle which can make everything but wilful 
contraries assimilate and harmonize ! — I say wilful , because 
though the principle whereof we speak is able to subdue 
all things unto itself ; yet man being a free agent, it does 
not force him, but finally leaves him to his own destiny. 
However, therefore, we may lament over the opposers of 
this Divine grace, or however humble our views may be of 
its professed advocates, yet surely the thing itself possesses 
an excellence that would exhaust panegyric and is beyond 



207 



all human estimation. So that with much reason indeed 
did the apostle exclaim, " Thanks be to God for his un- 
speakable gift !" Here I would observe that it was 
more than a little cheering to me to find that amidst all 
that surrounds and attends thee, thou wast still so lively 
in commendation of this true faith or grace w^herein we 
stand, and so warmly attached to that catholic and uni- 
versal church which is built upon it. My heart responds 
to thine in the descriptive eulogy of this church as ex- 
pressed by the sweet singer of Israel, " Beautiful for 
situation, the joy of the whole earth 5 is mount Zion, on the 
sides of the north, the city of the great King : — God is 
known in her palaces for a refuge," &c. 



No. 122. To Sarah Squire. 

1826, 1 mo. 31. — As the time for the departure of 

draws very near, I find myself not easy to let her 

go without a written message of my love, accompanied by 
the assurance not only of my continued remembrance, but 
of my present desires, that the Father of mercies and the 
God of all comfort may have thee and thine, and me and 
mine under His holy care and keeping. 

Ah ! how much do we owe to this Divine Providence 
which watcheth over us by day and by night, not only 
feeding and clothing us, not only preserving us from 
violent and sudden death, and all the greater calamities 
incident to our present state ; but in an invisible and in- 
comprehensible manner surrounding our path and our bed, 
and ordering minor things for us, beyond all we could ask 
or think. This is a slight sketch of my present faith, very 



208 



hastily expressed ; should it prove like one of those 
transient interviews which we sometimes compare to iron 
sharpening iron, my end will be answered. 

No. 123. To Joseph Gurney. 

1826, 3 mo. 3. — I believe I just hinted at the satisfac- 
tion with which I remembered my visit to Cromer. In 
this retrospect nothing pleases me more than to view as 
we saw her, and as thou hast told me is her frequent prac- 
tice, thy dear companion reading her Bible before break- 
fast ; or to imagine thee, with a mind perhaps equally 
meditative, taking at that salubrious hour a walk 
for the benefit of thy health. Whether I see thee as- 
cending the bare hill, taking thy stand upon the still more 
exposed cliff to contemplate the wonders of sea and sky ; or 
returning through groves of thy own planting to thy cot- 
tage home, my visionary prospect is generally associated 
with a portion of verse which I copied more than forty 
years ago, and which agreeing as I have found it does 
with experience, pleases and instructs me to the present 
day. Should these lines, as I think they may, excite 
corresponding feelings in thy mind, I perhaps shall do 
something more than blot my paper by transcribing them 
for thy perusal. After describing beautifully various ob- 
jects of sight and sound which formed the immediate scene 
of his musings, the author says, 

" Much on the imperfect state of man I have mused : 
How pain o'er half his hours her iron reign 
Ruthless extends. How pleasure from the path 
Of innocence allures his steps. How hope 



209 

Fixes his eye on future joy that flies 

His fond pursuit. How fear his shuddering heart 

Alarms with fancied ill. How doubt and care 

Perplex his thought. How soon the tender rose 

Of beauty fades ; the sturdy oak of strength 

Declines to earth, and over all our pride 

Stern time triumphant stands." — John Scott. 

I do not know that we set an equal value on this sori 
of composition, of which when I find it, as I now and 
then do, at least according to my own views, needlessly 
disparaged, I venture to avow myself the feeble advocate. 
I have heard of a grave authority on the other side the 
water, who perhaps uniting a little of the zeal of an 
ancient puritan with the taste of a modern backwoods- 
man, would dispose of poetry at once, by driving it out of 
existence. Now admitting the abuse of poetry, in com- 
mon with every other good thing, and excepting the 
most solemn parts of Scripture, I have never read any- 
thing better in prose than in verse, or worse in the last 
than the first ; I therefore conclude that they have their 
appropriate situations and respective advantages in the 
important business of forming character and regulating 
manners. 

Whilst thus speculating I am strongly impressed with 
the following sentiments of our friend Dr. Hancock, " as 
well might we suppose a self-moving orb to pass unhurt 
with a steady course through blazing comets crossing each 
others path in endless physical disorder, as that a human 
being in the present scene of moral darkness and perplexity 
could direct his own steps aright by the natural powers of 
his own mind, or apply himself effectually, in such a state 
of infinite confusion, to the duties for which he was designed, 



210 



without providential guidance. How consistent then with 
true philosophy is the saying that 4 a good mans steps are 
ordered of the Lord' ! How consistent with Christianity, 
and the general harmony of the Universe" ! 

We are told that poetry enervates the mind ; by which 
I understand reduces its natural pride, fierceness, stupidity, 
and selfishness to a lower standard ; and does not this 
same human nature want amelioration ? I think it does, 
seeing that men naturally are so much more disposed to 
treat their fellows with haughtiness, cruelty, and dissimu- 
lation, than with the meekness, gentleness, and integrity 
recommended by the Gospel. I would therefore that the 
lion were tamed, the bear softened, the ass stimulated, and 
the fox taught to be less crafty and more honest ; and I 
am not convinced by all I have yet heard that my 
favourite may not be useful as a means, for all is under 
grace, in thus changing rude and savage nature into 
civilized man. 

Here I would hint at a distinction which appears to 
me to exist between music and poetry ; that the first 
seems to be confined to the senses and passions, whilst the 
latter addresses the understanding too ; the first leaves no- 
thing substantial behind it, the latter, if it be well chosen, 
much. To give an illustration, if a man can take up our 
late dear P. G/s selection of hymns without some improve- 
ment both of his head and his heart, I should suspect him 
to be equally deficient in taste, in judgment, in piety. 

No. 124. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1826, 3 mo. 6. — Although, as thou hast hinted, " ima- 
gination," that domestic enemy to our peace, may some- 



211 

times needlessly depress us, and even make the salutary 
corrections of our Heavenly Father more bitter than He 
intends, yet there is a reality in trouble. Have not I, 
and, though so much younger, hast not thou known that 
grief and pain are something else than a dream ? Yes, it 
may not be too much to say that we have been afflicted, 
bruised, and broken ; but as we have also experienced 
that arm which is omnipotent to save, stretched out for 
our help, we have thereby tasted the joy of grief, or to use 
more sacred language, have been comforted in all our tribula- 
tions, so that we continue to this day monuments of Divine 
mercy. The horrible pit has not been suffered to shut its 
mouth upon us, nor the mire and clay to hold us ; but we 
have been marvellously delivered, and a new song, even 
the song of praise and thanksgiving, has been on certain 
memorable occasions raised in our hearts. 

Still I will not conceal from thee that thou hast judged 
right in supposing my spiritual dwelling to be often in 
" the deeps, where there is not much pleasant bread." 
Here I frequently go mourning all the day long, because 
of the oppression of the enemy, who, limited as he is, 
seems nevertheless to cause much mischief in the earth ; 
and if I were asked who among the sons of men were the 
objects of my solicitude, I perhaps should say the whole 
human race — myself, my family, the church, and the 
world, in each of which I am at times made sensible there 
is cause for such as are qualified to weep, as between the 
porch and the altar, and to cry, " Spare thy people, thy 
unworthy creatures, 0 Lord ! " 

Yet, though this is the case, I am not in despair ; on 
the contrary, there are seasons when, for each of the 
classes just mentioned, I can even rejoice, in hope of the 



212 



goodness of Him whose compassions fail not — whose 
tender mercies are over all his works — >who causeth his 
sun, both material and intellectual, to rise on the evil and 
on the good, and the showers of nature and of grace to fall 
on the just and on the unjust ; or to attempt in few words 
what many must fail to set forth, the infinite and incal- 
culable benefits of our gracious Creator: He is kind 
to the unthankful and to the evil. Thus occasionally- 
strengthened, I endeavour to hold on my secret way 
against the opposition which, though unknown to the i 
world, seems at times to be formidable in its array ; and 
it is with the view of encouraging thee to persevere in 
thine, that I am thus communicative on subjects in 
which truly there seems little for nature to glory. 

So long as simple preservation is mercifully granted 
from day to day, we have reasonable ground for hope, 
and none for utter dismay ; but rather, whatever has 
heretofore, or may still attend us, we have cause to be 
thankful, that through grace we are what we are, (poor it 
may be, yet having our lives given us, as it were, for a 
prey,) members not only of the Lord's outward and 
animal, but of his rational, and, as we are now and then 
favoured to feel, of his spiritual creation. Thus circum- 
stanced, if we cannot rejoice., let us be thankful. 

Not long since I had an experience somewhat like what 
has been said of angels' visits, " few and far between" — 
a song in the night, and, which thou wilt perhaps think 
rather strange, had for its subject a sweet and unexpected 
recollection of part of Pope's Universal Prayer : 

" Mean though I am, not wholly so, 
Since quickened by thy breath ; 



213 



0 lead me wheresoe'er I go, 

Through this day's life or death." 

I cannot easily describe how confirming these lines in 
particular were of the view I have just been taking, of what 
may not only be our apprehension respecting our own 
state of mind, but of many other hidden fellow-travellers, 
who, in the face of much difficulty, it may be, are endea 
vouring to run the race set before them, and through tri- 
bulation and exercise, are striving to enter the kingdom. 

With regard to the monied and commercial storm, 
I can pity those, whether they have been blamable in 
setting up idols of silver and gold or not, who have been 
overwhelmed by it ; whilst I congratulate, on the other 
hand, such as, though not exempt from suffering, have 
been favoured to escape from ruin. This I think becomes 
one who, like myself, has known many changes, even in 
the peaceful and necessary business of agriculture, in 
which, it is true, I have witnessed very prosperous times ; 
but I have also, and more than once, seen those wherein 
it could afford little pleasure to the farmer either to see 
his corn grow or his cattle thrive ; and I have again lived 
to a crisis which may bring my children into the same 
unwelcome situation ; for though it has begun higher, 
it will probably, in its more remote effects, pervade 
every corner of the land ; indeed, considerable change has 
already taken place in the value, and great stagnation in 
the sale, at any price, of the produce of the soil. Still, in 
our recesses, we are free from some things : — I never knew 
a mob at Gedney ; but whilst it has pervaded the city, I 
have hitherto, in the most difficult times, been able to 
enjoy the privilege of listening to the song of the black- 
bird, or the gentle murmurs of the wind in the grove. 



214 



7th. — I am inclined to add to what I so diffusely wrote 
yesterday, a reference to two short portions of the Old 
Testament Scripture, which in the course of family 
reading lately arrested my drooping faith, and I think 
somewhat strengthened it. The passages alluded to may 
be found at Judges, xiii. 23, and Zephaniah, iii. 12. 

Xo. 125. To JOSEFH GuRXEY. 

1826, 3 mo. 22. — Both the prose and the verse 
of thy last letter were very acceptable to me. It was 
also gratifying to find, that under the favourable circum- 
stances of having been thinking of me, mine met with a 
welcome reception, and that thou couldst discern, amidst 
the various qualities thou hast ascribed to it, friendship to 
be the principal ingredient. This is certainly what was 
intended. 

In reference to thy query, I think the music of instru- 
ments may be detached from poetry, being quite distinct 
from the harmony, or, if we please, the tune, which per- 
haps is inseparable from it, and which, under some cir- 
cumstances, may not only be an agreeable, but a powerful 
aid to this interesting vehicle of knowledge and of truth. 

I think singing, however, as a religious practice, (if this 
made a part of thy inquiry,) should be sparingly used, 
and that it should be under an influence not at our com- 
mand ; and therefore, perhaps can seldom, if ever, be 
safely adopted by the whole of a mixed congregation, com- 
posed of every variety of spiritual condition ; whilst making- 
melody in our hearts to the Lord, when we feel it arise, or 
the sacred song by night or by day, when such is given 



215 



us, may, I apprehend, be addressed with the spirit and the 
understanding, and the voice also, to Him who qualifies 
for the service. 

Of merely instrumental music I certainly have a very 
unfavourable opinion ; much precious time and property, 
I think, are wasted upon it in modern education ; whilst, 
as an attendant on worship, my objection to it is quite of 
a serious kind, as it seems to me to resemble so much 
those dreams of eating, from whence, when one awakes, 
his soul has appetite, and to have nothing in it of 
that process, which, though it originates in tribulation, 
leads its submissive votary to a hope that maketh not 
ashamed. 

I am not surprised at her parents feeling much in the 
prospect of their dear — — leaving them. My love to 
her, and tell her that I wish her as much happiness as she 
can enjoy, with humble and daily reference to the Author 
of every blessing, spiritual and temporal. If there is one 
truth in which I am more confirmed or rejoice more than 
another, it is in a constantly superintending Providence ; 
and that nothing deserves the name of happiness, further 
than as it is held in dependence upon, and with gratitude 
to Him. 

No. 126. To Sarah Squire. 

1826, 4 mo. 14. — In the whole course of our acquaint- 
ance and correspondence, nothing strikes me so much as the 
similarity, as I trust we may call it, of our Christian 
course, especially as regards its vicissitudes. Thy last 
letter was, if I understand it, strongly marked by a de- 
scription of much change in mental feeling and spiritual 



216 



condition ; and such, indeed, have been my experiences 
since I last saw thee. I will not enter into a further 
detail, than just to say, what I believe thou wilt fully 
understand, that some of them have been new, and almost 
awful. 

Ah ! how gladly would nature escape these trying 
baptisms ! Sometimes in brighter moments we are apt to 
conclude that the days of our mourning were ended, and 
that the bitterness of death is passed; when, so far from 
finding our self-love realized, we are again " plunged into 
the ditch," we are again consumed, as by a stroke of the 
Divine hand. But how mighty, how marvellous, and 
how merciful is that Power, who, though He sees it ex- 
pedient thus to try and to prove us, has hitherto won- 
derfully preserved through it all. We have had, at least 
I apprehend so, to pass through much of what the apostle 
describes, 2 Cor. iv. 7 — H ; and yet, though thus dying, 
behold we live ; and my present faith and hope is, that if, 
through the assistance of his grace, we persevere, the 
Lord will preserve us unto his heavenly kingdom, and 
finally establish us beyond all these things which at pre- 
sent are, at seasons, found to be so difficult to wade 
through. Yes, I trust He will vouchsafe to us an expe- 
rience similar to what the apostle has described in the 
three concluding verses of the chapter I have already 
quoted. 

i 

No. 127- To JoSIAH FoRSTER. 

1826, 4 mo. 21= — Thou hast " not heard much of me 
since last Yearly Meeting." The part of the country in 
which I live having no stones in it, a man may move 



217 



about without much noise : and when I travel in rougher 
ways, I endeavour to make as little noise as I can well 
help. But this is only figurative, and to be free and 
plain, my religious engagements seem to myself to be in 
various respects comparatively circumscribed. When it 
pleased Infinite Goodness, of mere unmerited mercy, to be 
" pacified towards me," for manifold offences and a long 
course of rebellion, and in unspeakable condescension to 
command me to endeavour to know the will of God and to 
do it, the low valley of humility, not to say of humilia- 
tion, was pointed out to me as my future dwelling-place, 
where I must not seek great things for myself, either of 
one kind or another. 

Accordingly, though I trust I have received a part or 
measure in the ministry of the blessed Gospel, yet it seems 
confined to an occasional going for a short time and near 
home, to the incidental attendance of Quarterly or 
Monthly Meetings of my friends as they are held in course, 
or which may most of all be my peculiar allotment to sym- 
pathise with private individuals in their afflictions, and to 
mourn often in secret over the unfaithful or wandering 
mind, offering to the afflicted a word of consolation, and 
to the prodigal a hand of encouragement, whenever I can 
meet him as on the threshold of repentance. Ah ! how 

I sweet to my soul are the too rare instances of the latter 
description ! Having been a stranger in the land of 
spiritual Egypt, I know the heart of a stranger ; having 
myself received mercy, I can exhort those who have 

1 tasted it to confide therein. 



L 



218 



No. 128. To Sylvanus and Mary Fox. 

1826, 5 mo. 2. — -Mingled experience with various de- 
grees of alternation is my lot to the present day, and per- 
haps may continue such to the end of life. Far be it from 
me, however, to complain. I am and have been, through 
the whole course of my pilgrimage, dealt with in unutterable 
mercy ; and if I cannot at all times fulfil the apostolic 
injunction, to "rejoice evermore, and in everything give 
thanks;" I think, on a calm retrospect, I can always bless 
for the severe, and acknowledge myself, as to spiritual con- 
cerns, a greater debtor to afflictions than to what are 
usually considered more prosperous and gratifying dis- 
pensations. Thus disciplined and prepared by a course of 
no very short duration, on waking this morning under 
depressing feelings, I found myself more disposed to 
cherish than to dissipate them ; and thus waiting, a de- 
sire became prevalent in my mind, that, whether the rem- 
nant of my days might be few or many, strength propor- 
tioned to the increasing weakness of nature might be 
graciously vouchsafed, and ability afforded to endure 
whatever of further probation may be permitted to attend 
the closing scene, Here I found not only a degree of 
relief from the weight of present exercise, but something 
like a defence against those anticipations, of which, though 
reason might teach us the folly, and revelation has put 
us on our guard, yet amidst all we see, and all we feel, it- 
is so difficult for some of us to keep sufficiently clear : 
indeed without renewals of faith and hope, I apprehend 
it would to many be utterly impossible. 

Though by comparison I may not be considered very 



219 



old, yet I have lived long enough to see most of my early 
cotemporaries, both in the world and in the church, fall 
like autumn leaves around me ; I am therefore de- 
sirous, as far as in me lies, of strengthening the hands of 
another and another generation, the young and the middle- 
aged; in the good work in which many of their forefathers 
w T ere diligently and successfully engaged ; that so there 
may always be a succession of those who are not only 
skilful in building up the walls of Zion, but of such 
also as for her sake cannot rest, nor for Jerusalem's sake, 
hold their peace, until &c. May the Lord in the riches 
of his wisdom, power, and mercy, hasten this glorious 
day ! 

As the usual time for the Yearly Meeting in London 
approaches, it brings many dear friends to my re- 
membrance, whom I have for a series of revolving years 
been accustomed to see there ; some of them I shall 
see there no more. But this rather increases than di- 
minishes my affection for those who are left of my old 
companions, and at the same time excites a feeling of 
lively interest towards the rising and risen characters of a 
later day. 

Xo. 129. To J. J. Gurney. 

1826, 7 mo. 21. — How much sweeter than roses or 
their incense, I have thought, is the piety evinced by some 
of our beloved young friends, who are called upon in the 
morning of their day to prove their allegiance by their ac- 
quiescence in the will of their Creator and their Redeemer. 
For early or late, living or dying, resignation appears to 

l 2 



220 



me to be the only altar on which an acceptable sacrifice 
of any kind can be offered ; and submissively to place up- 
on this altar the opening prospects of early life, and even 
life itself, seems to be one of the deepest and most precious 
experiences of a Christian. How lovely then is it to 
behold the well- disciplined and well-regulated minds of 
some who are but lately passed even from infancy, and 
to perceive, as I think we may sometimes plainly do, that 
the principle to which they have been directed supports 
them under nature's severest conflicts, and even in the 
trying hour of dissolution. 

No. 130. To J. J. Gurney. 

1826, 7 28. — From early life, and before I could be 
said to be religious either from education or anvthin^ 
else, I was deeply impressed with the entire spirituality 
of the Christian dispensation, and of course not very 
friendly to the outward rites and ceremonies with which 
even then I thought I could perceive its beautiful and 
holy simplicity had been encumbered and obscured. 
Rather than accept it thus abused, overlooking, as perhaps 
is too often the case, an object near at hand, the simple 
profession in which I was born, I unhappily sought 
refuge in metaphysics and scepticism. But here, as might 
be expected, I found no rest : weary of both, namely the 
contemplation of a religion attended with outward ordi- 
nances on one hand and unbelief on the other ; and still 
more weary of a corruption from which I was persuaded 
neither of these could set me free, I was at length 
drawn to a remembrance of the Saviour and his most 
precious promise, Matt. xi. 28 : " Come unto me, aH 



221 



ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest." In solitude and solicitude my heart 
conceived and my tongue uttered at the same mo- 
ment this piercing cry, Lord, grant that a poor fugitive 
may enter into thy rest ! And though I do not like to 
put upon paper what followed, yet in the confidence with 
which thou hast treated me, I may tell thee in general 
terms, what perhaps I might more particularly disclose in 
conversation, that this cry was condescendingly and im- 
mediately answered in the most clear and satisfactory man- 
ner ; — but not a word of sacraments as they are called, 
nor of any other ceremonial observances : all was intelligi- 
ble and spiritual. 

From this memorable era in my experience, I believe 
I may with safety say, I have never " wilfully departed 
from my God," though the manner and degree in which 
my feeble nature has endeavoured to please and to serve 
Him frequently covers me with humiliation, and leaves me 
no shadow of excuse or cause for complaint in any case of 
permitted or inflicted suffering. May this gracious Being, 
of his great love and mercy in Christ Jesus, continue to 
pity and pardon hearts which are desirous to be found 
doing his whole will in the midst of manifold tribula- 
tions and infirmities ! 

I am aware that the rite of baptism is generally con- 
sidered an outward sign of an inward work. But there 
may be found who have transposed this, and said 
that water baptism is the substance, and that what is 
mentioned of baptism by the Holy Ghost, &c. is only 
figurative. Indeed such is the confusion of theologians in 
treating of these rituals, as to the time, place, and mode of 
administration, the choice of proper recipients, and the ef- 
fects which these are to expect from the ceremony, as to 



222 



confirm me in my old persuasion, that these endless con- 
troversies, to say nothing of persecution, are much more 
calculated to produce disciples of Pyrrho than followers of 
Jesus Christ. 

No. 131. To J. J. Gurney. 

1826, 9 mo. 7- — Thou hast expressed an affectionate 
desire for my preservation through the passing storm. As 
might perhaps be expected, many cogitations and various 
feelings have in the course of it attended me. Yet I may 
thankfully acknowledge that oil has been poured upon the 
wave, so that quietness in the Divine will has I trust 
generally predominated over all that would disturb me. 
Has not David somewhere said, " In the multitude of my 
thoughts within me, thy comforts delight my soul." I am 
even thankful that my last letter afforded thee the satis- 
faction thou hast expressed. I say thankful, because it 
affords me one proof more, that there is a power which 
can make anything efficacious. So, it seems, thought poor 
Cowper, when, in allusion to the bounteous Giver of all 
good, he says, 

"Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, 
His approbation prosper even mine !" 

I rejoice in that thy recent travels have been so safe and 
satisfactory to thyself, and I hope the Omnipotence of 
which we have just spoken will prosper the word sent to 
many who heard it, so that it shall not return void. 



223 



No. 132. To Joseph Gurney. 

1826, 11 mo. 14.— Thy lines of the 11th, which hint- 
ed a doubt of thy capacity for brotherly love, have so far 
convinced me beyond a doubt of its real presence, that 
I accepted the tender at full weight, and with a sweet 
satisfaction, to which our dear Joseph's postscript was no 
drawback. 

Indeed your letters, with a few others of similar import 
from dear and distant friends, have, I think, been a means 
of keeping up my head in a season when the waters have 
seemed to me to be somewhat deeper than common, and 
more threatening to my peace. But such is the wisdom 
and the power of our gracious Helper, that He is never at 
a loss in the accomplishment of any of his purposes ; and 
therefore when He is pleased to withdraw his sensible pre- 
sence, or in Scripture phrase, to hide himself, He can, and 
often does administer needful support to his fainting chil- 
dren through less direct, and it may be in their estimation, 
through very inferior mediums : thus we have sometimes 
found an epistle from a friend converted into a messenger 
of mercy. 

I find too in my confinement, for I am a good deal con- 
fined, the value of mental resource, limited as I am aware 
my own is, yet it affords me satisfaction to reflect, that 
whilst I have had necessary intercourse with the world, I 
have not been wholly absorbed in it ; and that my thoughts 
and my conversation, though perhaps too much so, have 
not been wholly confined to my flocks and my herds ; 
whilst I perceive, at least I think so, an increasing beauty 
and value in the Holy Scriptures, which after a course of 



224 



various and desultory reading, now present themselves 
as a quiet resting-place, and a sort of spiritual home, from 
which in future I hope less and less to stray. 

No 133. To J. J. Gurney. 

1826, 11 mo. 20. — I quite agree with thee that we are, 
as members of our religious Society, under a close trial of 
our faith. I am glad thou art sensible that such is the 
case ; and I wish a similar feeling might so spread and 
prevail, as to produce a general humiliation, of which I 
think there is need ; whilst with thee I still trust, that 
amidst all our derelictions and perplexities, we have ground 
to hope that we are not a people forsaken of their God : 
and that such an awful crisis may never arrive to us, 
either in a "corporate" or individual capacity, I can 
scarcely doubt is the daily and nightly breathing of many 
a hidden character. 

Of those who may at times thus weep between the 
porch and the altar, very probably thy amiable cousin P. 
H. Gurney may be one, to whom the description of thy 
visit is much what I should have expected. I have seldom 
met with her but in public, yet sufficiently to have formed 
this estimate of her worth ; — that she has attained to a 
growth in religion not very common, — to a purity, esta- 
blishment, and elevation, with which the truth, as one of 
the manifestations of its wonderful power, dignifies a few 
of its devoted followers. Does not this opinion harmonize 
with thine, of being made a little lower than the angels ? 
And yet according to thy feelings, which I fully credit, 
this dear friend with all her completeness secretly suffers, 
so that perhaps when smiling on those around her, and 



225 



when least suspected by them, even she may know what it 
is "to groan the unspeakable groan." Well, if when the 
season for activity is pretty much over, nature in any of 
us should be permitted to wear away upon this cross, it is 
no matter. If our sufferings are but according to the will 
of God, whether outward or inward, the end will be glo- 
rious. 

In mentioning Gedney, I observe thou hast associated 
greenness with the recollection. This, trifling as it may 
seem, pleases me, not only because I love Gedney, but be- 
cause it shows thee to be in possession of a secret which 
some travellers want ; — that of trying to be pleased 
wherever they are, and if there be " a spot of azure in a 
clouded sky," endeavouring to find it. Thus, in the fens 
of Lincolnshire, instead of looking for rocks and moun- 
tains and forests, thou more wisely kept thy eyes down ; 
and thereby discovered the only beauty we can boast, the 
verdure of our pastures, — a verdure which, from interest 
and fancy combined, I have so often hailed with delight ; 
and even now when delight in such objects seems fast wear- 
ing away, I still behold with pleasing sensation. Perhaps 
I seldom have been more soberly or sweetly gratified in 
this way than during the present autumn, in which the 
renovated state of the vegetable kingdom has been indeed 
surprising. In the extraordinary drought of summer, the 
poor sheep had nibbled the grass very short, and in the most 
even manner, a work which they execute better than the 
scythe. So that when genial weather set in, we had 
very quickly our desert-like appearance changed to that of 
a second spring, and I think the tenth month, flowers 
excepted, outvied the fourth in beauty. Perhaps it might 
not be too much to say, that before the dew was exhaled 

l 5 



226 



in a morning, many of our pastures for softness and shade 
were comparable to the richest velvet. This description 
may seem rather poetic, but it is not, I think, exaggerated. 
Continue then, my dear friend, if thou canst, to be pleased 
with " green Gedney," and sometimes visit it. 

No. 134. To Catherine Foster. 

1827, 1 mo. 1. — Under the renewed feelings of a friend- 
ship w^hich has weathered the storms and the calms of 
about half a century ; and which if by the chilling hand 
of time it have lost anything of its vivacity, may never- 
theless by the discipline of the same hand, under the varied 
exercises of a probationary state, have gained more in 
solidity than it has lost in appearance — be this as it may, 
I sit down with much satisfaction, to acknowledge the re- 
ceipt of an acceptable proof of thy continued regard, as 
conveyed by thy epistle of the 11th month last. And 
it is no small addition to this satisfaction to consider that 
my dear friend, thy long-loved companion, by the insertion 
of a few lines, characteristic of himself, has adopted thy sen- 
timents of kindness towards me, and acknowledged them 
as his own. 

I sometimes^think, and the thought afresh revives, what 
a favour it is that some of us have had so much time 
allowed us to be exercised in the school of adversity, — a 
school in which I believe the oldest are not too old to 
learn, nor the wisest too wise to be taught. This disci- 
pline is also necessary for us • for as surely as gold is tried 
in the fire, so surely are acceptable men in the furnace of 
affliction. 

Like thee I was pleased with the few lines thou hast 



227 



quoted from a Methodist hymn. They are full of signifi- 
cation, and I hope that the low and humble thoughts of 
thyself, which seem to have led thee to introduce them, 
will ultimately be crowned by a safe passage over Jordan, 
and a haj)py arrival on the peaceful shores of the promised 
land, the heavenly Canaan. 

What a consolation it is to the Christian, as at seasons, 
even whilst struggling here below, it is given him with full 
assurance of faith to believe that these and similar descrip- 
tions are not, as infidels and sceptics would fain persuade 
us, cunningly devised fables to impose upon the ignorant 
and the credulous; but that they are on the contrary 
emblems and figures of pure, unsophisticated, substantial 
realities, which in due time we shall enter into the posses- 
sion and enjoyment of, if we endure to the end, and hold 
fast the profession of our faith without w T avering. 

Nor need it much disturb this faith and hope, if for the 
present we should have to mourn, to weep, and variously 
to suffer, seeing we are assured on the highest authority 
that in this world we shall have trouble. And when we 
contemplate the characters and dispositions of mind with 
the precious promises annexed to them, set forth in the 
first few verses of the fifth chapter of Matthew, we may, 
I think, see and feel the reason and force of the apostle's 
assertion, that these light afflictions which are but for a 
moment, shall work for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory. 

No. 135. To JOSIAH FoRSTER. 

1827, 1 mo.- 19. — I lament over the separatists in Ame- 



228 



rica ; for if youth and comparative inexperience be so sharp-* 
ly visited, as I believe they often are, for shunning the 
cross of Christ through human weakness and the momen- 
tary fear of man, how great must be the responsibility, and 
how much sorer the punishment, of those, who with a deli- 
beration that astonishes us, and a perseverance which might 
be worthy of the best cause, are found, even in life's latest 
stage, systematically denying the divinity of the Lord that 
bought them, counting the blood of the covenant an unholv 
thing, and doing despite to the Spirit of grace ! Yet here, 
sad as the thought is, it seems as if we must leave many 
on the other side of the Atlantic, and perhaps under 
various names and different degrees of infection, not a very 
few in our country. 

* . . . . I am now brought to a somewhat 
difficult, though very allowable question in thy letter : 
" Is agriculture more exposed to danger than commerce V 
I perhaps should say not as agriculture merely, which I 
think possesses many advantages, and is free from some 
objections attendant on various other occupations. And 
yet, with all my predilection in its favour, I must acknow- 
ledge that the subject is one in which, as in many other 
cases, theory is not borne out by experience to the full ex- 
tent of its promise. For congenial as the culture of the 
soil appears to be with nature, with Providence, and with 
the mild spirit of the Christian religion, of prime impor- 
tance too, as it is, to the sustenance of man ; yet it does 
seem to contribute less to the production of active, spiri- 
tually-minded character than is to be found under circum- 
stances, which certainly appear at first sight destitute of 
many of its privileges. 

But this apparent discordance as applied to members of 



229 



our little religious Society in the country, is not perhaps 
more or so much owing to persons being farmers, as to the 
small bodies and insulated situations in which they live, in 
many cases almost cut off from proper associates, except 
with the people at large. Young people in general are 
desirous of companions suited to their own age, and when 
these can be found I think it is important they should 
have them, as for want of this, perhaps as much as from 
almost anything else, the minds of many in country places, 
both farmers and others, and some of them not wanting 
in understanding, education, or employment, have by 
degrees become so imbued with the maxims and habits 
of those around them, as at length grievously to depart 
from the way of truth as professed by Friends and it is 
to be feared, in some instances, even to cause it to be evil 
spoken of. 

It may now be time for us to avert our eyes from this 
somewhat gloomy picture. Facts and experience are 
however things which even our imagination, fertile as it is, 
can neither create nor cancel. And I should be glad if 
these did not, so much as I apprehend they do, keep me a 
mourner as in a strange land. For notwithstanding the 
reports we frequently hear of " songs from the uttermost 
parts of the earth," I cannot help considering the living, 
faithful members of the church militant and universal, in 
every country, and under every name, to be a poor 
and afflicted remnant, comparatively few in number, 
and figuratively dwelling in a wilderness. Thou wilt 
probably think that I am in reality very gloomy 
— perhaps temperament, heightened by long and me- 
rited discipline in the school of affliction, may have 
given me such a complexion. And yet I think no man 



230 



rejoices more sincerely than I do to meet those of any de- 
nomination to whom in the secret feelings of my spirit I 
can say, " God speed V Such as I can salute with, Hail ! 
brother, or Hail! sister, Hail! my son, or Hail! my 
daughter, I bid you all welcome, in that kindred and fellow- 
ship (of " brethren and sisters and mothers and children," 
Mark, x. 30) which our blessed Redeemer promised to those 
who give up all for his sake : and which, blessed be his 
name ! poor as the world is of spiritual joys, He is still 
graciously pleased to grant to his little flock and family. 

I will now sum up my speculations, should they ap- 
pear to thee little more, by observing of agriculture, that 
since I became serious I have been glad that I was a 
farmer ; and of our religious Society, that, under all discou - 
ragements, I believe it is by no means forsaken. If there- 
fore in that contrast of situation and circumstance which 
we possess, thou in town and I in the country 5 — if in 
these very different lots we can neither of us comprehend 
or cure many things which give us concern, let us endea- 
vour through Divine assistance to overcome them by pa- 
tience, submitting like the blind to be led in a way we know 
not, and to be guided in paths that we have not known, — 
a passage which seems to suit my present state of mind, 
and has afforded me some comfort, at a time when leaning 
to my own understanding was never that I remember 
more entirely unavailing. 



Noi 136* To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 



1827, 1 r mo. 27.— Gedney, removed as it is from the 
great and busv, and even from the more active scenes of 



231 



the religious world, affords but little matter of informa- 
tion. I have not very lately been far from home, but 
within the last few weeks have been at different times an 
inmate in my brother and sister Massey's family at Spal- 
ding, from the wish of their invalid daughter Deborah, the 
latter stage of whose slow consumptive case was attended 
with much suffering. 

Her conflicts ended last fourth-day morning. The 
scene for some days past had been a deeply affecting one 
to me, but was more than compensated by the confirmation 
of faith and increase of experience, which, in common 
with my surrounding friends, I hope we all derived from 
it. It is probable the oldest of us might never before 
have had so full and fair an opportunity of witnessing the 
power of religion on the mind in affliction, in sickness, and 
in death, or one wherein, young as the subject was, grace 
was so eminently triumphant, not only over the weak- 
ness, but amidst the agonies of slowly expiring nature. 

One evening as her father and I were standing by her 
couch, from a state of comparative ease she became sud- 
denly sensible of an approaching struggle : leaning against 
her parent, and taking my hand 5 she exclaimed, " 0 my 
dear uncle ! 0 my dear father ! I am going." She was 
perfectly collected and sensible throughout the paroxysm, 
and at short intervals, but in a raised and audible voice, 
she continued thus to express herself: " This is death \" 
" I had no idea that dying was like this, — but I can bear 
it." " Thou (meaning the Almighty) enablest me to bear 
it." "Lord! into thy hands I commend my spirit." 
"Jesus, receive my spirit." "0 take me to thyself!" 
She then lay for some time as if departing, but whilst we 
were expecting to see her breathe her last, she gradually 



232 



revived, after which she observed to her mother, "I 
thought I was going ; I w T as disappointed : but I desire to 
w T ait the Almighty's time." She survived several days 
after this, with various alternations of trial and comfort, 
though I believe the latter on the whole greatly predomi- 
nated, as she would frequently say, "I am comfortable ;" 
and once to her father she repeated, in reference to her own 
state, the well-known line, 

" For all I thank Thee, most for the severe." 

I should not have transmitted this account to you, did I 
not think, and hope you will think so too, that there is, 
when fully considered, more of brightness than of gloom 
in it. 

For how instructive and edifying, as we have often 
heard and seen, and I think have remarked to each other, 
the closing moments of some dear young persons are found 
to be — even where the appearance of piety has lain , much, 
concealed from outward observation, it has nevertheless 
been elicited in an extraordinary degree on the approach 
of death. Then a faith not built upon systems, but on 
the Rock of Ages, has shone forth with effulgence and 
power ; then a hope not deduced from the subtleties of 
the schools has to the humbling admiration of beholders 
discovered itself, as an anchor to the departing soul, sure 
and stedfast ; and the whole of the case has manifested, 
too clearly to be mistaken, that not more by their expres- 
sions, though these are sometimes remarkable, than by the 
strength of mind with which they were enabled to pass 
through the dark valley, by these babes and sucklings, 
praise of the purest and most exalted kind has been per- 
fected, and ascribed to that very adorable Name, who has 



233 

thus given them the victory over their last enemy. Let 
us, therefore, my valued friends, as we may be enabled, 
unite in the sacred anthem which the dying example of 
these young believers seems so eminently calculated to in- 
spire. 

No 137. To Joseph Gurney. 

1827, 3 mo. 20. — As the little I mentioned in my last 
of my niece D. B. Massey's illness and death was so 
favourably received, I am inclined to send thee half a dozen 
copies of a more detailed account, which her affectionate 
father had struck off for private distribution among some 
of his friends and neighbours. 

D. M. was when in health rather remarkable for cheer- 
fulness of disposition, which however she managed so well 
as to be scarcely ever observed to speak censoriously of 
any one. She was also charitable and humane, noticing the 
poorest of her neighbours with a tender regard. During 
her illness, trying as some parts of it were, her mind was pre- 
served free from the slightest perceptible aberration; and she 
seemed to have a very quick sense of the presence or ab- 
sence of spiritual good, circumstances which I think added 
weight to her expressions. She was also freely communi- 
cative of the many changes that were permitted to attend 
her mind, thus availing herself of the aids of friendship 
and books, without appearing to neglect a due attention to 
that deep inward exercise, which an apostle has emphatically 
denominated " working out our own salvation with fear 
and trembling." I would not be diffuse, but as it can be 
done safely, I thought this brief sketch of an amiable cha- 
racter might not be unpleasant to thee. 



234 



The agitation of the elements seems now to have sub* 
sided, and more genial weather both to animal and vege- 
table life has taken place, the present being a fine and gentle 
showery day, attended in the fields, and, were I in Norfolk 
perhaps I might add in the groves and gardens, with many 
pleasant harbingers of spring. Even at Gedney we have 
a few ; and I now sit within a very short distance of 
building rooks, sportive lambs, and blooming hepaticas* 
How kind is the Author of nature ! 

No. 138* To Richard Cockin. 

« 

1827, 5 mo. 5.— Should st thou ask the cause of my not 
writing, it might seem strange for a man out of business 
to ascribe it to too much occupation. And yet if I mis- 
take not, this has been the principal occasion; my mind 
having for a long time past been so involved in suffering, 
as in no very inconsiderable degree to seal my lips and re- 
strain my pen. Of these trials I account the general ill- 
ness with which both my own and my sons family were 
visited last autumn to make but a small part : indeed I 
viewed with composure, perhaps I ought not to say with 
hope, the probability that I might be gently passing away. 
My afflictions therefore, if such I may call them, have 
proceeded from other sources ; and I will not conceal from 
thee, as a father in the truth, that sympathy with the 
sufferings of many individuals, and solicitude for the state 
of our poor yet dear little religious society in divers places, 
have often brought me into, and generally kept me in a 
reduced and stripped situation of spiritual feeling ; so that 
the caution for which thou hast kindly given me credit, 



235 



may perhaps, as to outward religious acts either by word 
or writing, have on the whole rather increased than 
diminished. 

It is not a very difficult thing to assent with the un- 
derstanding to important truths of any kind : but really to 
feel the force of these truths is another thing ; — to be made 
truly sensible that of ourselves we can really do nothing ; 
and to see that with the addition of a living and powerful 
ministry, for such we have, it is utterly impossible without 
the blessing of the Lord, and their own obedience, either 

: to raise or to support a single spiritual character, or even 
to keep alive our own souls ; for it is not in man that 
walketh to direct his steps. 

When we consider that time is needful to give these 
important and humiliating religious experiences ; that it is 
also not until the lapse of years that some of our greatest 
outward trials overtake us, in the dissolution of our oldest 
and closest friendships, the loss of adult children, and 
other painful circumstances ; when all this is duly reflected 

1 on, does it not seem as if some of life's bitterest cups — some 
of afflictions severest strokes, and some of nature's greatest 
bereavements were reserved for the latter stages of our 
probationary course ? And if we view this scale of dis- 
cipline as intended or at least calculated to wean us more 
effectually from the present world and prepare us for a 
better, by putting those Christian virtues of faith, hope, 
and love, which we have long professed, to the closest trial 
just before we quit the stage, — is not this somewhat 
analogous to what is practised in the schools of literature 
and science, wdiere the hardest lessons are given to the 
highest class of learners ? 

I can well understand the relief thou mentionest, having 



236 



myself experienced it, from being out of business in the 
late difficult time : it is indeed one of the greatest privi- 
leges in life's decline ; and that thou met with a successor 
who follows thy practice of closing shop on meeting-days, 
must be a very pleasant thing to thee. ~V\ r e ought to num- 
ber our blessings ; and amidst all my complainings, I am 
sometimes favoured to see that I have many to number, 
and that it is to goodness infinite and mercy inconceivable, 
I owe everything, 



No. 139. To Sarah Squire. 



1827, 7 mo- 7. — Ah ! my dear friend, unworthiness is 
indeed engraven upon my heart in characters never to be 
obliterated ; but blessed be the name of a gracious God, 
the covenant of his mercy is also I trust indelibly engraven 
there ; so that although in days past, sin has greatly and 
grievously abounded, yet since the kindness and goodness 
of the Most High appeared to my benighted soul, grace 
has much more abounded to his praise and my own humi- 
liation. May I never desire to rise above this state of 
self-abasement, until time with all its trials and tempta- 
tions is at an end ; and until, should such be my favoured 
experience, death shall be swallowed up in victory ! Then 
indeed, and not till then, all will be happiness without 
alloy. In the meantime, let us consider the feeling of a 
little peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, an 
unspeakable favour ; and even the more negative sense of 
no condemnation is a thing by no means to be despised. 



237 

No. 140. To H. C. Backhouse. 

Selby, 1827, 8 mo. 2. — I am indeed prepared by ex- 
perience to sympathize with the most faint and feeble of 
my fellow-travellers. Yes : I can cordially take the 
poorest of the mental poor by the hand, and say, My 
brother, or my sister, though thou mayst not at present be 
able to rejoice in thy tribulations, yet endeavour to be 
thankful ; and low or weak as thou art ready to appre- 
hend thyself, yet count it a great mercy to have been 
preserved hitherto through the shocks and the shades, 
and other vicissitudes of thy probationary course. Hold 
on thy way, and may eternal Wisdom be thy guide ! 

I unite with thee in the sentiment, that there is more 
of spiritual life in society than in solitude, and that there 
is more of this society in towns than in fields and in 
woods is equally true ; yet we cannot but love rural 
scenes ; and impressed perhaps with the feeling that 
" God made the country and man made the town," we 
find the latter suffer greatly by comparison, as all artificial 
things must do when placed in contrast with the work- 
manship of a perfect Creator. Indeed I am so much 
influenced by this thought, as to ascribe to the country a 
loveliness compared with which the proudest city is but a 
heap of lumber, or mass of confusion. This, however, has 
little to do with a conclusion which I have been brought 
into by slow degrees, and with some reluctance, that, 
allowing to each their local advantage and disadvan- 
tage, yet on the whole, both the quantity and quality 
of active or positive virtue is found to rise higher in 
social than secluded life ; and this observation, or rather 
fact, I think applies in a remarkable manner, though I 



238 



can scarcely tell why, and have been very unwilling to 
believe it, to our little religious society ; yet, I could 
hope almost against hope, for my favourite retirement — 
still, I love the country ; and the life of a farmer, such as 
I could imagine, though it might seem a little Arcadian, 
has charms even for my age, which no other employment 
possesses. 

Thy analogy of nature and grace in their economy of 
power and of evidence pleases me much as it seems so fully 
to accord both with experience and the scriptural assur- 
ance, that according to the day (that is neither more 
nor less than the occasion calls for) shall our strength be : 
and does not this account for the strippedness and deser- 
tion we are often left in, when specific duty ceases to be 
required of us ? And yet I do not consider this bereave- 
ment of sensible good to be a state either of rest or of 
idleness ; for can endurance be more wearisome or watch- 
fulness more difficult than when we seem left to ourselves 
and to our enemy? a condition that perhaps is more 
trying, than when we can neither see nor pray, but only 
wait as well as we can, which is often poorly enough, for 
its termination. These seasons may nevertheless be useful 
to us for our deeper humiliation and the increase of our 
self-knowledge, showing us, in a way that perhaps nothing 
else could, what we are and what we are not. 



No. 141. To J. and H. C. Backhouse. 

1827, 9 mo. 11. — Seldom have I known deeper humilia- 
tion. On looking towards the source of purity and per- 
fection, I beheld a series of wisdom, goodness, and power 



239 



extended towards me all my life long ; turning my eyes 
in another direction, the contrast was almost too great to 
bear, so that I was indeed brought very low. 

As I take you to be converts, not merely to the opinion 
but to the fact, of human imbecility, and of man's entire 
dependence for physical, intellectual, and divine strength, 
I express myself with entire freedom on the subject; 
believing that you will not, as I think is sometimes 
ignorantly done, ascribe either to enthusiasm or nervous 
affection, an experience which is at least costly, and per- 
haps designed to be useful. You will not, I am per- 
suaded, reproach me as visionary ; especially when I tell 
you that through the renewed extension of that glorious 
attribute, which those who receive it in another life 
will praise for ever, my bands are once more loosened, 
and liberty so far proclaimed to my captive spirit, that 
with a considerable degree of comfort and satisfaction 
I can now salute you as dearly beloved strangers and 
pilgrims, yet companions and fellow-travellers in our com- 
mon journey through a wilderness, in which, mingled 
with pleasant elevations, is found also many a valley of 
tears. 

After all that has been said or written, and much has 
been attempted, to make the way to heaven plain and 
easy, I am of the apostle's mind, that great is the mystery 
of godliness ; and that difficult to comprehend are the 
dealings of the Most High with his finite creatures, in 
order to prepare them for usefulness in the church militant 
here, and happiness in the church triumphant hereafter. 
I am sure it is not natural to me to take such a view 
as this ; on the contrary, I should like to account for 
everything ; but I am constrained into the conclusion 



240 



just stated by past experience, as well as by that confirma- 
tion of it which I have so amply received within the last few 
days, wherein, instead of the peace I might have been 
tempted to look for, behold trouble ! 

I would not, however, have even hinted at such 
exercises as these, which I have generally been accus- 
tomed to wade through in solitude and silence, had not 
precious faith been a little renewed, and hope, sweet hope, 
again beamed upon me, inclining me to invite you, my 
dear friends, to join in devout acknowledgments to the 
Author of them both, who continues at seasons to exalt 
Himself in the eyes even of his most unworthy children 
above all thanksgiving, adoration, and praise. 



No. U± To J. J. Gurney. 

1827, 10 mo. 5. — Though I believe it is better that 
many of our sorrows should be borne, and our prayers 
uttered in secret, yet I believe there are times when we 
may with seriousness and discretion open our minds to a 
friend. Led to it by our mutual sympathies, I therefore 
am inclined to tell thee, my dear friend, that thou hast not 
been mistaken in supposing that the shades of the evening 
sometimes appear to me rather sombre — that at other 
times I seem to myself feeble and sore broken. Again, 
the waters are so deep, and the tossing from wave to wave 
so incessant, that there is no standing, — whilst at the 
same time the surrounding darkness is too palpable and 
dense even for prayer to penetrate. All this has of latter 
days come within the range of my experience, and was 
perhaps never more my experience than at the time thy 



241 

last letter arrived, which was the more welcome to me 
because it not only spoke distinctly of such trials as these, 
but of the possibility of preservation in the midst of them. 
This brings to my recollection the remarkable language of 
the evangelical prophet to a tried remnant formerly, 
" "Wherefore glorify ye the Lord in the fires, even the 
name of the Lord God of Israel in the isles of the sea." 

That I may ever be found among the remnant, how- 
ever small its number, who under all circumstances are 
desirous of pleasing and serving the Lord, is I think my 

I continual and earnest desire. On the closest examination, 
I cannot discover, great as my weakness is, any change in 
this secret bent and purpose of my heart ; w^hich I there- 
fore reverently hope is fixed, trusting in the Lord ; and 
trusting also that, through the continued assistance of his 
grace, all may yet, before very long, end well for time and 
eternity. Thus impressed, I therefore conclude to wade 
and struggle on, deep and dark though the opposing waters 
be ; for we know that although we are every way un- 
worthy of the notice and love of our Redeemer, yet He is 
altogether worthy of ours. We know also that every 
blessing we can enjoy, temporal or spiritual, must proceed 
from Him : — forsaking or forgetting Him, to whom" then 

j shall we go ? 

I think I never before so clearly comprehended, or so 
highly appreciated the important Gospel doctrine of the 
forgiveness of sins, as during the cloudy and otherwise 
| comfortless season of which I have attempted to give thee 
I some idea. In the midst of surrounding gloom, this 
cheering and soul-sustaining doctrine has been like a lan- 
tern to my feet, health and marrow to my bones, — all in 
all to me. Grant me but this, 0 my Redeemer ! I have 

M 



242 



been ready to cry, and I have nothing else to hope, to 
fear, or to pray for. Blessed, indeed, is the man whose 
transgressions are blotted out, and whose sins are par- 
doned : yea, happy, thrice happy, is the man to whom 
the Lord imputeth not sin. Covered with the robe of 
righteousness, clothed in the wedding garment of salva- 
tion and praise, even the forgiven sinner may triumphantly 
exclaim, Come, Lord Jesus ! Come quickly ! Thy poor, 
unworthy servant, leaning on thy mercy, is ready ! 

No. 143. To Joseph and Jane Gurney. 

1827, 10 mo, 6. — Not knowing how long I may be 
able to travel, I have devoted much of the past summer to 
journeys of love and good will, by which I mean going 
here and there with a disposition and with a desire to " re- 
joice with those who do rejoice, and mourn with those who 
mourn The extreme points of these perambulations 
have, I think, been London, Yarmouth, Ackworth, and 
Darlington : a circuit which you know includes many 
English acres, and as you will perhaps believe, has in- 
cluded also many interesting scenes and circumstances, 
with their correspondent feelings. 

How surprising, in various points of view, is the rising 
and falling of successive generations, and how many of 
these changes have we seen ! they have even glided before 
us like visions ; and yet here is no vacuum, nor any stand- 
ing still : the world is everywhere full, and everywhere 
active. Is not this, at once, an effect and a proof of Omni- 
potence ? 

My late visit to which still often occupies my 



243 



thoughts, was, as it respected my private friends, all I could 
desire from it. As it regarded our common cause it had 
its alloy, and in fellowship with them I grieved and suf- 
fered from finding that trouble had made an entrance 
within their borders. How true it is that sin and sorrow 
are to be found in every place, though in different shades 
and degrees ! Here we have them of the darkest hue and 
the bitterest taste. Ah ! poor learning, how feeble thy 
protection ! thou art indeed good, very good, in thy place ; 
but out of it, good for nothing, as we have a cloud of 
witnesses to prove : and where is thy proper station ? In 
entire subserviency to, but not as a substitute for, or in 
competition with, Divine grace, I believe this is unpopular 
doctrine in the schools, and equally unfashionable in the 
world ; but that is no matter to me, it is my judgment, 
and I neither can help it, nor desire it should be other- 
wise. 

After returning home about a month since, reduced in 
health and strength, I soon felt the effects of a change into 
this less salubrious atmosphere, and have been prevented, 
by the reigning complaint of the season, from attending 
our Quarterly Meeting, which was disappointing to me. 
[After alluding to other cases of domestic illness, the letter 
thus instructively closes.]] All these things, as you may 
suppose, have had a tendency to bring me rather low both 
in body and mind. I see however so much more to be 
thankful for than to complain of, that, under some renewed 
sense, I trust, of the Lord's continued mercy and goodness, 
I would tenderly invite you to rejoice with me therein. 



m 2 



No. 144. To Josiah Forster. 



1827- 10 mo. 15. — I expect we shall find whatever di- 
rection we take, where there are any friends, some rightly 
concerned individuals, both as to principle and practice, 
and however small the number of these may be, compared 
with the whole, still it is a mercy that there are here one, 
and there another, who are sincerely endeavouring to do 
the best they can, for it appears to be very much owing to 
the labours and the prayers of this little remnant, that, 
under the blessing of the Most High, the rest are kept toge- 
ther, even in the degree they are. Still the few have, and 
I believe must expect to have, their trials ; but if they are 
faithful, they have also their consolations. 

The General Meeting at Ackworth was large, evincing 
a o-reat decree of interest in the minds of Friends towards 
this valuable Institution, and I believe few went away dis- 
appointed. The mode of Scriptural instruction established 
of late years seems to be excellent, and to surmount in 
practice, the well-meant scruples and justifiable fears which 
perhaps should always guard a new theory. 

Whether anything further, and what, can be done to 
improve the condition of our Society by education or dis- 
cipline, I must leave to more projecting heads and better 
qualified minds than my own. One thing, however, on the 
negative side of the question, I do feel interested about, 
which is, that nothing may be attempted which shall in 
any way affect the manner of holding or conducting- 
our meetings of worship. For whatever those who as- 



245 



semble in them may be, I believe, as to their constitution 
and establishment, they are what they should be, according 
to the spirit and letter of the Gospel ; and, consequently, 
that we no sooner touch them by any contrivances of our 
own, however specious in appearance, than we are in dan- 
ger of losing the little remaining strength we have, and of 
becoming, virtually at least, what we are sometimes re- 
proached with having already become, — another people. 
I am not however alarmed by my subject, though I have 
been thus led to touch upon it, — gently, I hope. 

Xo. 145. To Joseph Gurxey. 

1827, 11 mo. 22. — If I have seasons of trial, (and who 
, escapes them?) I trust I have also the faith and hope of a 
Christian, though of his patience I may not boast. As to 
my health, I scarcely know what to say of it : I have, cer- 
tainly, for many weeks past, suffered a partial loss of 
appetite and rest, and, as a natural consequence, some 
degree of strength, which makes exertion fatiguing and 
irksome to me. I however take a ride or walk most 
days, and generally get to our little meeting, at which I 
thought I derived some comfort yesterday. But what a 
favour it is to have the use of my limbs and faculties ; and 
if I am indeed going down, that it is so very gently. 

I sometimes think it is an especial privilege to glide out 
of life by unperceived decay, or, if happily prepared for it, 
a still greater mercy to be translated as by a touch ethe- 
real. I could almost pray for one or the other, did I not 
consider that quiet submission is more befitting than such 
a prayer ; for, after all our anxieties, resignation is the 



246 



Christian s motto, not to be worn, like the Jewish phylac- 
teries, on the forehead or on the arm, but in the most 
secret recesses of the heart. 

No. 146. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1827, 12 mo. 25. — I am very lately returned from a 
short excursion amongst my friends, in which, between the 
afflictions of many on one hand, and the unfaithfulness of 
some on the other, my mind was brought into a state of 
deep and painful exercise, wherein almost all the little en- 
couragement I could find was derived from the degree of 
help graciously afforded, proportionate to the ills of such a 
cloudy and dark day, confirming me in a sentiment I had 
previously adopted, that it is an equal favour to receive 
strength to suffer, when such is our lot, as a will to serve 
when thereunto called. Here I was not only able to 
plant my foot as on a firm bottom, but even to take some 
comfort from a fresh remembrance of the apostle's remark- 
able language, 2 Cor. iv. 8 — 11. 

Indeed I think the whole of this and a few succeeding 
chapters are encouraging to true Gospel ministers, in this 
as well as former days. I was particularly struck with 
what is said in the verses alluded to, of always bearing 
about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life 
also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh. 
The self-renunciation and daily cross which the disciple of 
Christ has to bear, may, I have thought, be not unfitly 
compared to the dying of the Lord Jesus ; whilst the 
patience, resignation, trust, and confidence in God, with 
which this crucifixion of the will and affections is endured, 



247 



may, more than anything else can do, manifest both to 
ourselves and others the life of Jesus in us, whilst clothed 
with these tabernacles of clay ; so that the few who by 
this course attain to the perfection of which I believe it is 
susceptible, and at which, as the mark of the prize, we 
should all aim, may with humble confidence say, " I am 
crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live ; yet not I, but 
Christ liveth in me ; and the life which I now live in the 
flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me 
and gave himself for me." Gal. ii. 20. 

If thou canst view this important subject as it seemed 
opened to me in the time of my recent trial, I hope the 
aids from Scripture which I have partially quoted, may be 
equally beneficial to each of us, in keeping our heads just 
above water whenever the floods are permitted to sur- 
round. But I am somewhat apprehensive lest the low 
and plaintive strain into which I am so often almost invo- 
luntarily led in my letters, may induce thyself and others 
of my dear friends, whom I should be sorry to make un- 
profitably sad, to exclaim on the sight of my hand- 
writing, " Behold the complainer, or the dreamer, cometh ! " 
either from a suspicion that I make too much of my feel- 
ings, or that I have not felt what I attempt to describe. 
To this I can only say, that it is both my desire and my 
endeavour to speak or write of nothing religiously, of 
which I have not had some experience. 

Nor need it surprise us, if, as life advances, should spi- 
ritual strength and experience happily advance with it, 
our burdens may rather increase than diminish. I some- 
times think that in this respect, though so different in 
some others, there is considerable analogy between the 
Christian school and those of literature and science : in 



248 



both, the most difficult lessons seem to be given to the 
highest class of learners. It might not, however, be wise 
in either case to tell young beginners too much of this, lest 
it should affright and discourage them, No, let them 
enjoy their milk for babes, and sing how sweet it is, as 
long as they can ; but for us, and such as us, stronger 
meat is prepared. Indeed, I suppose we shall readily 
admit, that the middle and closing stages of an ordinarily 
long life, must, from natural causes, be subject to trials, of 
which youth can have but a faint conception and no ex- 
perience, being in reality strangers to many of the circum- 
stances out of which arise the cares and the sorrows of age, 
though of a virtuous and redeemed one. Age has its 
comforts too, in its near approach to imperishable joys. 



No. 147. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1828, 1 mo. 25. — That thou wast able to get through 
thy engagements so much to thy relief whilst abroad, and 
experienced such sweet peace on thy return home, I am 
pretty certain thou wilt conclude with me to be a renewed 
and unmerited mercy ; for we are but unprofitable ser- 
vants, and but for the renewings of the Holy Ghost, what 
in the sight of infinite purity and perfection must be our 
own righteousness ? The Scripture tells us, filthy rags ; 
and there is not one of its important truths to which I 
believe we shall each more fully subscribe. Perhaps it was 
the consideration of this truth that suggested the hymn 
which contains the following stanza : 

" Nothing in my hand I bring. 
Simply to thy cross I cling ; 



249 



Naked, come to thee for dress. 
Helpless, look to thee for grace, 

To the cleansing fountain fly ; 

Wash me, Saviour, or I die ! " 

Thou makest inquiry after our last Quarterly Meeting 
which I managed to attend, and am well satisfied that I 
did so, though it seemed chiefly to suffer ; yet as strength 
for the day was measurably afforded, there was no cause 
for repining, but rather of thankfulness for a degree of 
ability to enter by sympathy into the severer sufferings of 
others — a sense of which at that time was the principal 
cause of my own. I think I never knew at any former 
period so much private and domestic affliction in our 
Quarterly Meeting, as I have good cause for believing has 
of late existed in it — few families having entirely escaped 
the visitation of trouble in some shape or other — which, 
considering the present to be a time we not unfrequently 
hear spoken of as " one of outward ease," almost surprises 
me. Indeed I can make nothing of this difficulty by rea- 
soning upon it, but find enough to do to watch and hold 
fast, endeavouring at the same time, as ability is afforded, 
to encourage my dear brethren and sisters to steadfastness 
and endurance in our most holy faith, of which perhaps 
adversity occasions the severest, though not the only trial. 

This state of things thou wilt believe causes me some 
low seasons, yet I find, as I have sometimes found before, 
and a favour I esteem it, that, contrary to the common 
remark, of body and mind rising or falling together, when 
the latter has been the most deeply exercised the health of 
the former has improved. Whilst on the other hand, I have 
a few times known that, with death in near anticipation, the 

M 5 



250 



mind has mounted as on eagle's wings, without a grain of 
pressure upon it, or the shadow' of a cloud in its w T ay ; so 
that, as far as my own observation goes at least, body and 
mind have in the most critical moments been alternately 
helpful to each other. "Whether this be generally the case 
I cannot tell ; nor does it matter, if we are but favoured to 
get safely through our probationary course, which shall 
have been the greatest sufferer, flesh or spirit, or whether 
their sufferings shall have been most frequently in unison 
or otherwise. Perhaps this circumstance may be con- 
tingent as to us, and yet nicely regulated by the wise 
arrangement of an overruling Providence, with whom are 

© © " 

hid the secret things both of time and eternity. How 
safe and delightful it is to rest every doubt and difficulty 
which we either cannot comprehend, or which it does not 
concern us to know here, that is in God ! 



jS^O. 148, To J. J. Gurney. 

1828, 3 mo. 4. — Still affected by "the private sufferings of 
divers individuals, as well- as by the low and stripped state 
of our little church in these parts, the state of my mind for 
some time past may not unaptly be described in this lan- 
guage of the Psalmist : " I was dumb with silence ; I held 
my peace even from good, and my sorrow was stirred." 

Such, however, were my feelings for some days, a few 

weeks ago, that I was almost ready to conclude something 

like a new era in my spiritual experience had taken place 5 

in which, if the days of mourning were not ended, they 

might have received such mitigation as would henceforth 
® © 



251 



enable me to journey forward with an increased degree of 
strength and consolation ; but herein I was mistaken. 
The south wind ceased to blow as from the garden of God; 
the spices thereof no longer flowed forth ; and I found 
myself, I can scarcely tell how, again a humble resident 
in the valley of Achor, where the only door of hope seems 
to be, that those who mourn availingly shall ultimately 
find a blessed exchange, and such as suffer with Christ 
according to the Divine will, will assuredly, in another and 
a better world, reign with Him, not transiently, as in this, 
f but for ever. 

In thus unbosoming myself to a beloved and confidential 
friend, I hope I shall neither offend nor discourage him. 
I have aimed at nothing further than simple information 
of how it is faring with me, and in doing so I desire not 
to go beyond the example of the two disciples who com- 
muned together and were sad. Happier still should I feel 
myself to escape the gentle reprehension which they 
received, and class with those of whom the prophet 
Malachi says, that they spake often one to another, and, 
as he clearly intimates, with full acceptance. It is quite 
evident, however, that at the present juncture I ought to 
be grateful, if permitted to sit down with the poor dis- 
ciples, and receive with meekness their reproof, " 0 fools 
and slow of heart," &c. I do not, therefore, my dear 
friend, ask thy pity, still less would I put thee to the cost 
of sympathy ; but when thou art clothed with the spirit 
of supplication, I desire an interest therein, that, in the 
hour of tribulation, however induced, my faith and 
patience may not fail. 

I have not heard from or written to thy dear uncle for 
a considerable time. I am aware, that, by the exercise of 



252 



crar understanding only, we are poor judges of each other ? 
mental circumstances, yet I cannot sometimes help thinking 
that there must be considerable difference between the spi- 
ritual experience of some of my beloved and honoured 
friends and fellow-labourers, and my own general allot- 
ment. They seem at liberty, whilst /am in prison ; they are 
at large, but I am in bonds — bonds which just now appear 
to be increasing in strength. But for a full view of what 
I apprehend and believe of myself, and of what I hope and 
believe of many others, I will refer thee to 1 Cor. iv. 10 ; 
" We are fools for Christ's sake, but ye are wise in Christ ; 
we are weak, but ye are strong ; ye are honourable, but 
we are despised;" and as much more of the chapter as 
thou mayst justly think is my condition. Within the last 
few seconds, I have begun to think that anywhere but in 
a letter so much of one's self would be almost too much 
even for good-nature ; I therefore obey the suggestion - 
and turn from the idol. 



No. 149. To J. J. Gurxey. 

1828, 4 mo. 28* — How sweet is the union, and how 
delightful the communion, of saints ! By this appellation 
I mean those, and those only, who, according to their 
measure, whatever that measure may be, are what they 
are " through sanctification of the Spirit unto obe- 
dience and sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ 
a doctrine which, if fully admitted, leaves nothing for the 
creature to glory in, and leads to the humble acknow- 
ledgment, that our sufficiency is not of ourselves, but 
of God. 



253 



I am the more tenacious on this point, because there are 
not wanting, in the present as in past days, certain plau- 
sible popular speakers and writers, who, whilst they would 
not perhaps assert it in words, appear covertly to assume 
the untrue and dangerous opinion, that man is fully com- 
petent to his own concerns, spiritual and temporal. In 
both I believe he has need of the blessing and aid of a 
superintending Providence. 

My mind is at present enjoying a pause of comparative 
tranquillity, in contemplating the extensive fields of moral 
and religious labour which the vast wilderness of this 
world exhibits to the mental eye; waiting, at the same 
time, to see or to feel if there be any little thing for me to 
do, were it only opening or shutting a door for my fellow- 
servants ; for truly I esteem it a greater honour to be even 
thus employed, than to be accounted the son of Pharaoh's 
daughter, or to dwell in the tents of wickedness. 

iNTo. 150. To JOSIAH FoRSTER, 

1828, 5 mo. 6. — The return of spring does indeed afford 
much food for the contemplative and reflecting mind, both 
of youth and age ; though the thoughts of these very differ- 
ently circumstanced classes may take an almost opposite 
direction. The former, exhilarated by the buoyancy of ani- 
mal spirits and the universal smile of nature, look forward 
with sanguine, often too sanguine, expectations from the 
future; whilst those on whom these prospects have not 
only opened but closed, and who have nearly seen the end 
of all earthly perfection, are apt to look behind them. 
Thus to me, and such as me, it is not an unpleasing 



254 



though somewhat pensive employment, to number the 
lovely springs that have passed over our heads, (in my 
case, fifty-four since I left school,) and to turn over 
the chequered page of our own history, and that of the 
times in which we have lived, as I can easily do, for more 
than half a century. 

In tracing these records, although I find some blots, 
some blunders, and here and there a very zigzag and 
awkward line, yet I really have no desire to try the 
ground over again, even were I to begin w T ith the advantages 
which the first experiment might be supposed to afford, 
For I find former experience, though of some value, is 
insufficient for preservation ; it cannot supersede watchful- 
ness, nor does it preclude warfare. I therefore, on the 
most serious consideration, would not wish to live such 
a life always, but rather reposing on that mercy which 
has hitherto helped me, and, craving its continuance, 
wait as patiently as I can all the days of my appointed 
time until my change come : — a change which is a very 
important one, and yet when faith supports and hope 
illumines, (or vice versa,) this prospect, though solemn, is 
found to be rather sweet than painful. 

Thou hast remarked my being rather fond of poetry. I 
think when carefully selected and moderately used, it 
cheers with sobriety, and instructs without fatigue, and 
thus innocently relieves the severer exercises of the mind, 
as well as materially assists an impaired memory. 

Having mentioned spring and poetry, I am reminded 
of an elegy on this interesting season, by the late J ohn 
Scott of Amwell. On my way from the first Yearly 
Meeting I attended in 1783, I spent a little time with this 
friend at his brother Samuel's, at Hertford. I remember 



255 



them both well; and the recollection of that particular 
occasion, at which Samuel Spavold was also present, is 
among the number of my pleasant backward prospects . 
How kind is Providence to reserve a capacity for declining 
life, by which 

Pensive memory oft retraces, 

Scenes of bliss for ever fled ; 
Lives in former times and places. 

Holds communion with the dead. 



Xo. 151. To H. C. Backhouse. 

1828, 7 mo. 25. — I am inclined to tell thee, that 5 after 
one of those privations to which the Christian traveller is 
subject, from the withdrawing of an influence, without 
some degree of which his knowledge is useless and his 
labours unprofitable, and after the self-scrutiny and 
other humiliations usually attendant on such occasions, I 
I am once more permitted to look upon Zion, the city of 
the saints 5 solemnities, with a little revival of faith and 
hope, and to behold the true worshippers therein with 
some renewal of gospel- fellowship and love. 

As we have, I think, heretofore remarked, what a wonder 
and a mystery is the state of human probation, so that 
notwithstanding the holy fellowship, the precious commu- 
nion, and the many other mercies, both temporal and 
spiritual, which are vouchsafed in the course of our earthly 
pilgrimage, there still are seasons, w T hen with submission 
we could gladly exchange it for regions of brighter day, 
for scenes of more pure and uninterrupted felicity ; and 
when, in contemplation of the glory which shall hereafter 



256 



be revealed, we are ready to say, Blessed will be the hour 
that shall anchor us in the haven of safety ! — thrice 
happy and blessed the moment when we shall set our 
weary feet on the land that lies on the other side Jordan ; 
a land flowing with milk and honey ! — I express myself 
thus with the less hesitation or reluctance, because I know 
that it is not the language of a repining but of a grateful 
heart. 



No. 152. To Joseph Gurney. 



Yarmouth^ 1828, 9 mo. 2. — At our first coming, I had 
in view from my chamber a beautiful moon and her 
twinkling attendants presiding with mild and silent in- 
fluence over slumbering nature. And this morning I 
opened my eyes at rather an early hour, upon what I 
consider to be an assemblage of the grandest objects of 
this material world : the sky above and the ocean below ; 
and these uniting to appearance in the distant and level 
line of the horizon, whilst the sun irradiated the whole 
scene with a splendour which it is not for me to describe, 
further than by observing, that nothing visible gives me 
such an exalted idea of the infinity, immensity, and mag- 
nificence of creative power, and the littleness of man, as 
the combined effect of contemplating the wonderful objects 
to which I have just alluded. Well, indeed, might the 
Psalmist exclaim, " When I consider thy heavens the work 
of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast or- 
dained ! what is man that Thou art mindful of him, or the 
son of man that Thou visitest him ? " And yet adored be 
his holy and reverend name, He does visit his children 



even in this their low estate ; and, as thou hast hinted, is 
at seasons found amidst the two or three. 

Whilst, however, we not only admit, but insist on the 
doctrine of immediate revelation, as communicated by the 
perceptible influences of the Holy Spirit, we some of us 
feel, and surely none more than I, the need there is to 
guard against the insinuating activity of the imagination, 
which would obtrude itself into everything, to the great 
detriment and hindrance of the work of sanctification 
and peace, so that I very much unite in thy sentiments 
on the activity of this restless faculty, as well as on the 
only preservation from it being derived from that salva- 
tion for which, doubtless in all ages, numbers have been 
brought to cry in the earnest and pathetic language of 
" Help, Lord ! or we perish ! " 



No. 153. To H. C. Backhouse. 



Selly, 1828, 9 mo. 19. — However it may at times con- 
sist with the will of our Heavenly Father for the promo- 
tion of his own glory, to bring some of his servants as to 
the top of a mount, and there to show them wonderful 
things, even things unutterable ; yet whatever they may 
think, it might neither be good for them, nor answer the 
purpose designed, for them always to abide there. So far 
from it, they may have again and again to enter into 
sufferings, and perhaps they will find that their safest en- 
joyment rises little higher than a capacity for rejoicing in 
hope, being patient in tribulation, and continuing instant 
in prayer. 

I came hither a few days since, with my youngest 



258 



daughter in a steam-vessel from Yarmouth. After being 
thrown with some force from one side of the cabin to the 
other, at the suggestion of the captain I lay down on a 
mattress on the floor, where I got a little refreshing sleep, 
which was followed by the reflection, that, if men were 
more willing to descend from those elevations both of 
body and mind, to which they so much aspire, they might 
spare themselves some trouble, and enjoy safer and sweeter 
repose. 

Although I have not entirely recovered from the effect 
of my voyage, for such a farmer must be allowed to call 
an hundred miles at sea, and about the same distance on 
the rivers Yare, Humber, and Ouse ; yet I do not regret 
having taken it. It has furnished me to a certain extent 
not merely with new ideas, but with a heretofore un- 
known experience of the wonders of the mighty deep, and 
of the still mightier creative power, who laid its founda- 
tions so sure, and whose omnipotent voice said, " Hitherto 
shalt thou come but no further, and here shall thy proud 
waves be stayed." 

No. 154. To J. J. Gurney. 

1828, 12 mo. 5. — I would not dwell too minutely on 
those recent events, which both on the grounds of religion 
and humanity affect and afflict us. Rather let us turn to 
the Lord, who, though He has permitted us to be . thus 
deeply wounded, can assuredly heal and bind us up. He 
has heretofore helped us, let us trust that He will do it 
again : yea, has He not at different stages of our pil- 
grimage, when we have fallen or been ready to fall into 



259 



" the horrible pit," brought us safely through, " set our feet 
upon a rock," and even put a new song into our mouth ? 
Shall we then despair ? 

No. 155. To Elizabeth (Joseph) Fry. 

1829, 1 mo, 10. — How many and surprising are the 
changes to which we are liable, and that actually befall 
the Christian traveller in his journey through a state, 
which, though it has some bright spots, still as a whole 
admits of the comparison to a wilderness and a valley of 
tears ; so that not merely as respects his wonderful phy- 
sical formation, and the union of this material tabernacle 
to an immortal mind, but on a view also of his spiritual 
condition and circumstances, may we not justly exclaim, 
" What a miracle to man is man ! " truly such a standing 
and awful miracle, as might almost paralyze him with 
astonishment and dismay, had not his omnipotent Creator 
provided a means whereby he may shape his course by 
night and by day, in the calm and in the storm, through 
the most trying and difficult vicissitudes of his proba- 
tionary pilgrimage towards a land of rest. 

These, my valued friend, are not expressions of an un- 
felt theory, and if, as I belie ve, they are truths, I have 
learned them in the deeps — those depths into which, 
though not a very public character, I have had both on my 
own account, and on account of others, frequently to de- 
scend — and I think never oftener or deeper than of late — 
so much so, that I have sometimes found it difficult to 
hold fast and to endure, with the patience and resignation 
befitting my years and religious profession ; yet amidst all 
I have thankfully to acknowledge being preserved, even at 



260 



times when, in my own apprehension, I had not, as I ought 
to have done, sufficiently kept the word of the Lord's 
patience : what mercy ! what infinite and adorable mercy ! 

In these tempestuous seasons, how busy is the enemy and 
accuser in endeavouring by a variety of suggestions to sink 
us below hope, at one time insinuating that his temptations 
and our sins are synonymous, — at another, that, when we 
are corrected by our Heavenly Father it is in inexorable 
displeasure, and that when the light of the Divine counte- 
nance may be occasionally withdrawn from our sensible 
perception, we never more shall behold it ! These, and 
many more are his devices against us in the cloudy and 
dark day ; but let us not believe him : it is one thing to be 
tempted, or even chastened, and quite another to be cast 
away : and, thanks be to God, (I trust we can each de- 
voutly ejaculate,) who though He may, as in the case of 
his servant Job formerly, have permitted us to be deeply 
tried, has not given us as a prey to the devourer ; let us 
then endeavour not only to pray, but to trust, that, as we 
have been helped hitherto, we shall be helped to the 
end. 

I probably should not be so free on these weighty sub- 
jects, did I not in addition to some experience, apprehend 
myself supported by various writers of sacred Scripture, 
especially David, whose eventful and extraordinary life 
seems to afford both an example and illustration of the 
miracle to which we have alluded, as comprising almost 
everything both inward and outward, that man can be 
supposed to do, enjoy, or suffer. I think the eighty- 
eighth and eighty-ninth Psalms are remarkable for their 
descriptions of deep and various exercise. 

That I may not weary thee by a multiplicity of words, 



261 

I will only add a few texts as they occur, from which I 
have sometimes derived comfort and strength : " Greater 
is He that is in you than he that is in the world." " In 
the world ye shall have tribulation ; but be of good cheer, 
I have overcome the world/' u If God be for us, who 
shall be against us ?" With Him nothing is impos- 
sible. " Ye are of more value than many sparrows : 
the hairs of your head are all numbered." "Fear not, 
little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you 
the kingdom." These, and other passages too numerous to 
mention, all make for one object, — -the exciting and keeping- 
alive of our faith, hope, and confidence in an unchangeable 
and almighty Friend, as our refuge and deliverer, even in 
those critical junctures wherein we may be the most deeply 
proved. 

No. 156. To Josiah Forster. 

1829, 1 mo. 15. — Although active characters are wanted, 
and it is a favour we have some such, yet it does not follow 
that those whose lot is more secluded need be indifferent to 
what is passing within their own circle, or unaffected by 
the reports which reach them from a distance. The mind 
may visit remote scenes and individuals, when the body is 
stationary. And might I be allowed to mention anything 
of my own experience in support of this testimony, I 
could assure thee, that I also, in my comparative solitude, 
neither possess a mind untravelled, nor a heart at rest. 
May we not then hope, that, according to their respective 
gifts and allotments, varied as these may be, all the living 
members of Christ's church make but one body, of which 
He is the Head. There is also much comfort in believing 



I 



262 



according to the apostle's doctrine, that they have need of 
each other ; and may, in many different ways and degrees, 
be engaged in the promotion of our common cause. 

My youngest daughter being poorly in the autumn, and 
recommended to a change of situation, I accompanied her 
and her sister to Yarmouth, where we stationed ourselves 
directly on the beach for a few weeks, On her health it 
seemed to have a very beneficial effect ; we all enjoyed the 
sea, and the society of the few friends of the place, who 
were very kind to us ; and after a tossing and sickly pas- 
sage in a steam-vessel from Yarmouth to Selby, I returned 
home, and am even now perhaps deriving benefit from the 
whole journey. Still, without neglecting the use of means, 
or disputing the salutary agency of second causes, how sweet 
it is, when faith is sufficient to look through these mediums 
to Him, without whose superadded blessing every other 
resource must fail ; and to accept all that we enjoy, 
whether health of body or peace of mind, from the boun- 
tiful hand of unmerited mercy ! 



No. 157- To Joseph Gurxey. 

1829, 2 mo. 20. — I suppose may now be on their 

way for Ireland. I shall sometimes think of them with 
affectionate solicitude ; for after being made willing to re- 
sign our beloved friends, whoever they are, to these arduous 
en o-a cements, or even enabled to commend them to holv 
care and keeping, there still is room for secret prayer, — that 
sacred duty of such extensive and universal obligation, as 
to be appropriate to all conditions, and in all times, 
places, and circumstances. I think I am not setting up 



263 

too high a mark — attainment is another thing — yet if we 
feel something of a pressing after, let us not he discou- 
raged. 

Are thou and thy long-loved partner passing the winter 
pretty much alone, or are any of your grandchildren with 
you ? I also am a father and grandfather, and am so well 
pleased with the relationship, that I seldom find myself 
happier than with a child and its comparative innocence 
in my arms, or in beholding infant loveliness sleeping on 
its mothers lap. Like balm in a wound, these objects 
sometimes soothe me ; — like oil upon the wave, they often 
calm ; and I could really almost fancy myself the better 
for being thus brought into contact with something so in- 
timately connected with the kingdom of heaven. 

No. 158. To Richard Cockin. 

1829, 3 mo. 10. — I scarcely need tell thee that since 
we last met, many humiliations both of a public and pri- 
vate nature have befallen our dear little religious commu- 
nity; and may we not add, our beloved country too? — so 
much so, that the present appears to be a cloudy and por- 
tentous day, and probably may have occasioned each of us 
many an anxious thought. But after all these forebodings 
and agitations, what can we do better than abide patiently 
in our respective allotments, waiting as resignedly as we 
can the event of these turnings and shakings, whatever 
that event may be ? for I think it is said in holy writ, 
f 6 How goodly are thy tents, 0 Jacob, and thy tabernacles, 
0 Israel !" and that whilst abiding in them, neither en- 
chantment nor divination shall prevail against him. If I 



264 



infer anything from this language as applicable to us, it is 
the encouragement and desirableness of Friends keeping 
themselves as quiet as possible, and out of the spirit of party, 
however they may be urged to join in it, and whether it as- 
sume a religious or a political character, or both combined. 
The strict neutrality which in extreme cases a consistency 
with our principles obliges us to observe, makes it in my 
judgment a part of the same consistency to forbear med- 
dling with the very beginnings of contention. 

But though I have thus touched upon it, it is not my 
intention to dwell long upon this or any other gloomy sub- 
ject, though materials we both know are not wanting. 
But I am at present inclined to turn aside from them all, 
for the sake of indulging the brighter and more cheering 
consideration, that amidst all the commotions and vicis- 
situdes of this lower world, the Lord of the universe is 
gracious, omnipotent, and changes not. From the begin- 
ning of time He has caused his sun to shine on the evil 
and on the good; and his rain to descend on the just and 
unjust. Whilst to those who in sincerity of heart endea- 
vour to please and to serve Him, He is good, supremely 
good ; yea, may we not say in a superlative degree, not 
only by favouring them with inward peace in seasons of 
outward trouble, but even by protecting their persons and 
preserving their lives in the midst of numerous and immi- 
nent perils. May we then, my beloved friend, as both 
Scripture and experience warrant us in doing, still trust in 
the Lord, encouraging others by our example to the same 
confidence in Him ! 

I have this winter had pretty good health, which, in the 
latter stages of life, is a great privilege It is truly re- 
markable how at one time the body appears to help the 



265 



mind to bear its exercises, whilst at another, the mind 
seems to sustain the infirmities of a failing body : so won- 
derful is the divine economy respecting frail and feeble 
man. For through whatever medium we are comforted 
or assisted, it is still the Lord's doing, and is sometimes 
marvellous in our eyes. 
/ 

No. 159. To Josiah Forster. 

1829, 4 mo. 25. — It is in proportion as they are in some 
way or other interesting that all our communications writ- 
ten or oral, longer or shorter, on ordinary or religious sub- 
jects, derive their principal value. And whilst we should 
not attempt to limit what must from various causes ever 
be variable, yet I think it is pretty clear that length and 
strength, either in speaking or writing, are not exactly 
synonymous. Has not our attention been sometimes ready 
to groan or to sleep under the multitude of words, whilst 
at others, words fitly spoken, though many in number, 
have been heard with satisfaction and benefit ? So long 
then as sense accompanies sound on common occasions, and 
weight supports measure on graver ones, we listen wil- 
lingly ; but when either of these fails, weariness ensues. 

Of individuals sliding or bewildered I endeavour to 
speak, if at all, with much reserve ; but in the case of a 
fallen brother or sister whom I have loved, I become as it 
were dumb with silence; and if I can avoid it, neither 
mention nor record their name, which, however, does not 
exclude them from my thoughts, or perhaps from something 
more. 



N 



266 



No. 160. To J. J. Gurney. 

1829, 6 mo. 23. — I have long been acquainted with 
humiliations and baptisms ; but I do not remember in the 
same space of time so many, so peculiar, and so deep, as 
those which have arisen out of the events of latter days. 
And as there is no rising above them by our own strength, 
the wisest and safest course appears to be that of submis- 
sion to the rod and Him that shaketh it ; humbling our- 
selves individually and collectively under his mighty 
hand, until He may be pleased to raise up, and cause us 
again to live with acceptance in his holy sight ; giving us 
the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for 
the spirit of heaviness. 

I would call upon every one who is able and willing, 
to join me in secret and silent, rather than vocal or public 
lamentations, perhaps somewhat resembling that men- 
tioned by the prophet Zechariah, xii. 10, to the end. As we 
are thus willing to go down again into the low valley, the 
Lord may condescend again to plead with us there, and 
cause the blessed fountain, so beautifully spoken of in 
the first verse of the succeeding chapter, " In that day 
there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David, 
and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for un- 
cleanness " — to be afresh opened for our purification and 
sanctification, and may we nut add, for our unspeakable 
consolation also. 



267 



No. 161. To Joseph Gurney. 

1829, 8 mo. 28.— I think there may be more good than 
harm, when we are at liberty so to do, in describing to a 
fellow-traveller simply and without murmuring, the occa- 
sional withdrawings from our minds of that which is most 
dear to us. I am sure there are seasons (and I say it 
without repining) when not even the most precious pro- 
mises of Scripture — upon which at such times I can per- 
haps take no hold, and therefore, when not even these, 
sustain my mind equally with those more affecting de- 
scriptions of suffering, bodily and mental, given either as 
their own experience or that of their companions, by many 
of the inspired writers. Job and Daniel abound in these, 
descriptions : the prayers, confessions, and even complaints 
of Elijah, Hezekiah, Jeremiah, and Jonah, are also of the 
same character ; and I cannot doubt but that the second 
chapter of the book bearing the name of the latter prophet 
has many a time, in different ages and generations of men, 
been availingly brought to the remembrance of the afflicted 
under their deepest conflicts ; for by these only and in 
such circumstances could the contents of this remarkable 
chapter perhaps be fully understood and appreciated. 
Neither must we, whilst on this interesting topic, forget 
the expression of the blessed Redeemer, " My God, my 
God, w T hy hast Thou forsaken me ?" nor the remarkable 
language of many who with so much energy and accuracy 
foretold his humiliation and sufferings ; so that, on the 
whole, I think it will appear that the duties of prayer, 
perseverance, and patience, no less than those of faith, 

n 2 



268 



hope, and charity, are recommended to us by a cloud of 
witnesses. 

I have not seen the book thou rnentionest by Jonathan 
Dymond, but I have read several pretty descriptions of 
the Millennium, a subject which I generally lay down with 
the volume ; for though it is quite delightful but to dream 
of such a thing, yet the realities which surround us are of 
so opposite a character, that it seems no less tantalizing to 
dwell upon the character, beautiful as it is. Perhaps the 
nearest approach, which as individuals we can expect to 
make to this most desirable state, may be found in that 
rest to the soul, which results from taking Christ's yoke 
upon us, and being obedient to our God. 

29th.— The crops of corn in thjs neighbourhood are, I 
believe, of an average quantity and excellent quality. 
The progress of the harvest is, however, much retarded by 
the state of the weather. This, by an agricultural paper 
which I see, is stated to be the case generally throughout 
the island ; and yet these reporters say that the quality 
of the grain is not much, if at all, deteriorated by the 
heavy rains, which is rather new doctrine to an old farmer. 
The high and cold winds are certainly much in its favour 
by checking germination ; but the storms in divers places 
have done much injury by beating out the grain ; in some 
instances, I am credibly informed, as clean as if it had 
been threshed. That our all is dependent upon an over- 
ruling Providence will be generally acknowledged ; but 
how far the weather, as a second cause, is in his hand 
made the agent of plenty or scarcity, is perhaps too little 
considered. Were farmers seriously to reflect that they 
have no control over cold or heat, that they cannot com- 
mand a ray of sunshine or a drop of rain, and that by a 



269 



certain adjustment of all, their hopes are realized or disap- 
pointed ; such thoughts might make some of them better 
philosophers and no worse men. 

So far as my own observation goes, the weather most 
[[hurtful] to corn in the field, is that which is at once 
moist, warm, and still ; for under this circumstance, whether 
the sun shines at intervals or not, vegetation will proceed. 
The harvest of 1816 partook so much of this character, 
as fully to convince me, that, had the same kind of weather 
continued but one week longer, the corn then abroad 
standing or cut, — which was a large proportion of it, — 
could not possibly have been saved. But just at the 
crisis, when all seemed going to ruin, and the most active 
farmer could do no more than look on and behold the 
wreck ; in this state of things, the only change of weather 
that could have been availing was in mercy permitted : a 
high, cold, and penetrating wind arose, and in the course of 
a few hours quite changed the face of things ; the farmers 
exerted themselves, and though considerable damage was 
sustained, the threatened scarcity was averted. I desire 
never to forget this impressive instance of providential 
correction and kindness, as manifested in such rapid suc- 
cession through the medium of the elements. 

No. 162. To Elizabeth (Joseph) Fry. 

1829, 9 mo, 21. — I may just say to thee, my valued 
friend, that my religious course has at different times, and 
under different circumstances, led me into a close ac- 
quaintance, both with the consolations and humiliations 



270 



described in that remarkable portion of Scripture, the 
fifty-first chapter of Isaiah. 

Some few times I have been enabled rejoicingly to 
adopt the glowing language of the third and eleventh 
verses : " For the Lord shall comfort Zion ; he will com- 
fort all her waste places ; and he will make her wilder- 
ness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the 
Lord : joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanks- 
giving, and the voice of melody." " Therefore the re- 
deemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing 
unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head : 
they shall obtain gladness and joy ; and sorrow and mourn- 
ing shall flee away." Whilst, at other times, I have had to 
bend under many of the afflictive dispensations spoken of 
from the seventeenth verse to the end. 

I mention these things from an apprehension that our 
experience of them may be somewhat alike ; and that thou 
as well as myself hast experienced, dost experience, and 
mayst perhaps have still further to experience their ap- 
plicability. And here I can scarcely forbear exclaiming, 
I trust in some degree of the spirit of prayer, 0 that, 
through inscrutable wisdom and adorable mercy, thou 
mayst live to witness the fulfilment of the precious pro- 
mise contained in the twenty-first and twenty-second 
verses ! — " Therefore hear now this, thou afflicted, and 
drunken, but not with wine : Thus saith *thy Lord the 
Lord, and thy God that pleadeth the cause of his people, 
Behold, I have taken out of thine hand the cup of trem- 
bling, even the dregs of the cup of my fury ; thou shalt no 
more drink it again." On the very solemn contents of the 
twenty-third and last verse of the chapter before us, it be- 



271 



comes us to speak with caution and deep humility ; yet, 
even under these considerations, I am inclined to express 
my full belief, that there are cases in which, not only as it 
respects the oppressed but the oppressor, it has been and 
may be awfully fulfilled. 



No. 163. To J. J. Gurney. 

1829, 10 mo. 27. — I perceive by thy letter that our 
feelings and views on certain weighty points continue to 
agree ; and though this need not surprise us, it is very 
agreeable to discover. On the low state of our little so- 
J ciety, on the alternate hopes and fears respecting it — hope 
still predominating — our thoughts are the same. 

To thy remarks on the all-sufficiency of our blessed Ad- 
vocate and Mediator — I think I could subscribe word for 
word. As perhaps there never was a time in my long life 
when I stood more in need of such a Saviour^ so I think 
there never was a period in which I more highly appreciated 
this most precious gift of God ; so that I am enabled to 
lift up my head in hope, even under a deep and abiding 
sense of the greatest unworthiness. 



*No. 164. To Sarah Squire. 

1829, 11 mo. 6. — Having reason to suppose that, after a 
pretty long absence and many arduous engagements, thou 
hast returned to thy dear family, and to a home which I 
hope thou wilt find a peaceful one, I am desirous of affec- 
tionately congratulating thee on so interesting an occa- 



sion ; at the same time desiring that grace, mercy, and 
peace may be thy companions through every change of 
situation and circumstance with which the present eventful 
scene abounds. 

Yet, as these necessities commonly, and perhaps neces- 
sarily, produce their corresponding changes in our feelings 
and experience, I have thought that, even when we are 
peaceful, we may also be poor, seeing that peace and po- 
verty, whether inward or outward, are by no means in- 
compatible ; and therefore, if, after being clothed and re- 
plenished for the sake of others, we should have our 
seasons of stripping and emptiness, let us not be too much 
discouraged ; for all this may be unattended by anything 
like condemnation, and only amount to the quiet privation 
to which I have alluded; under which, if we can but per- 
ceive the spirit of grace and of supplication in the gentlest 
breathings for a patient and resigned mind, we have cause 
to be thankful, and have nothing to fear. Our gracious 
Lord and Master, as they cast all their care upon Him 
and abide in humility before Him, will in his own time 
and way remember the poorest of his children and ser- 
vants, and, as I believe thou hast known, cast up a way 
for them where they have seen no way ; making, at sea- 
sons, even the desert to blossom as the rose; turning 
the wilderness into a pool of water, and the dry land 
into springs of water, to give drink to his people, his 
chosen. 



273 



No. 165. To J. J. Gurney. 

1829, 11 mo. 27. — -I am recommended by my medical 
attendant to keep very much within doors, which I have so 
far complied with as to have been but once at meeting, 
and of course denied myself the short rides and walks 
which I had usually been accustomed to take almost every 
fine day. 

If conversation flags, or we are tired of reading, it is 
but sending for two or three of JVs little children, who 
quickly restore animation. In the present era of specula- 
tion and refinement, when much is said of the march of 
intellect and the wonders in its train, we have, amongst 
other discoveries, been told of the transfusion of blood from 
those who have it to spare into the veins of such as are de- 
ficient in the needful supply of this vital flame. May it 
not be on a similar principle, that the smiles and the 
cheerfulness of infancy are found to impart a portion of its 
pure and exuberant spirits, into the torpid, weary, or af- 
flicted bosom of more advanced life ? To this effect has 
sung a poet of some talent and much sensibility, in this 
pretty stanza : 

" Sweet infancy ! Oh, what a heart 

Must he that could injure thee bear ; 
Even anguish forgetteth its smart, 
When thou, busy prattler, art near." 

To resume a seriousness from which it does not become 
me long to depart, I may tell thee, that, tranquil as the 
present tenor of my external condition might appear to 
a passing observer, not such altogether is my mental course. 

n 3 



274 



On the contrary, tips and downs, and a variety of changes 
find their way into my retreat, secluded as it is. Thus, 
whilst I might now and then almost adopt the two first 
lines of a beautiful hymn ; 

' ( A glance from heaven, with sweet effect, 
Sometimes my pensive spirit cheers' :" 

Yet, like the writer of this hymn, I perhaps soon find my- 
self involved in an opposite experience, either as being 
more necessary for my own refinement, or more in affinity 
with the darkness and suffering, which, on most parts of 
this low and probationary region, though certainly with 
some variation, seems to be the general state of the spi- 
ritual atmosphere. 

After saying this, it would be the depth of ingratitude 
not to acknowledge, that, during my present confinement 
I have been favoured, and I hope I do not deceive myself, 
with the clearest and most satisfactory view of the Chris- 
tian s faith and hope, or rather of his salvation, that I ever 
witnessed — a salvation which has appeared to me to con- 
sist in the forgiveness of sins, through the atoning sacri- 
fice of the blood of Christ — in reconciliation with the 
Father, by the mediation and intercession of the same 
blessed Advocate and Redeemer — in power over all the 
power of our souls' enemies ; and finally, as the conse- 
quence and consummation of all these, in the promise of 
the life that now is, and of that which is to come ; even 
of a city that hath foundations- — an inheritance, eternal, 
incorruptible, that fadeth not away. Although I believe 
thou art much conversant on this deeply interesting sub- 
ject, yet I do not think I could give thee an adequate 



275 



idea of the preciousness of those moments, wherein light 
shone upon my tabernacle ; nor how great my distress, 
when, as in Peter s vision, the sheet was taken up again 
from whence it came. 

The longer I live, the more of a learner I find myself; 
yet, so far as my experience goes, it does seem as if 
changes, comparable to being emptied from vessel to ves- 
sel, or even the same vessel alternately filled and emptied, 
were needful to keep some of us at least sufficiently hum- 
ble and dependent ; by showing us, with an unquestion- 
able degree of evidence, what inestimable treasure may be 
contained in our earthen vessels when grace abounds; 
and what total vanity takes place when it is wanting ; — 
truths, which, had we no changes, and were the stream of 
time always to run smoothly, we should be unwilling to 
believe or apt to forget. If this conclusion be correct, as 
I think it is, then may we not indeed say, that— 

u Trials make the promise sweet, 
Trials give new life to prayer ; 
Trials bring me to his feet, 
Lay me low, and keep me there." 

Welcome, therefore, tribulation, saith the spirit; but, 
alas ! for another part, how weak ! 

No. 166. To Joseph Gurnet. 

1830, 2 mo. 6. — I am desirous of acknowledging thy 
brotherly kindness, as conveyed to me by thy letter of the 
3rd, particularly in the account thou hast given me of thy 



276 



dear son and daughter s extensive, and, were it not that I 
wish to avoid any expression that might seem connected 
with hard service, I might perhaps have called them ardu- 
ous religious prospects. Under a persuasion, however, of the 
transcendent kindness of the Master, whom they are en- 
deavouring to serve, I would do neither more nor less than 
encourage them to abide in Him who has heretofore 
helped them, and in whom they have on the present occa- 
sion been enabled to trust. 

I sometimes think it is a great favour when the Lord 
condescends to own us in any way, whether in correction, 
command, or his sweet consolations ; as each of these tends 
to afford the reasonable presumption, that we are not so 
displeasing in his holy sight as to be cast off or forgotten 
by Him. This brings to my remembrance the circum- 
stance of a stranger Friend, a minister, who many years 
since in our little meeting introduced the scriptural 
story of Manoah and his wife, as related in Judges, xiii. ; 
and dwelt particularly on the twenty-second and twenty- 
third verses, in support of the view I have just taken. 

Though imagination has often caused me sorrow, I have 
for once had to rejoice in that it only conjured up a 
groundless fear of having given religious or mental pain, by 
indulging too great a latitude of expression on some of 
those secret things, which, if discussed at all, it should be 
with much caution. When doubts and discouragements 
press heavily, as I suppose they may at times upon most 
of us, and lead me to turn the leaves of past experience 
over, though on this review I have generally stood 
pretty well acquitted of wilful disobedience ; yet, when I 
come to the item of watchfulness against a restless and 
bewildering imagination, I have been ready to tremble, and 



277 



to conclude that few, if any, are equally tried in the same 
way. 

One of our poets has written elaborately on " the Plea- 
sures of Imagination. " If this were given me as a theme on 
which I must either speak or write, I really think I could 
dwell only on its mischiefs and its miseries, wherein I be- 
came in early life so deeply involved, that I am now, per- 
haps, too sensitive on this quarter ; for such is my dread of 
being again ensnared by the delusions and deceitfulness of 
my own heart, that I think it is quite possible I may 
sometimes be endangered by an over anxiety to escape : 
thus I perhaps may be too scrupulous in conversation, 
too timid in writing, and too much alarmed (for I really 
sometimes am alarmed) in the gallery. Now all this is 
not the true medium, and disturbs that equanimity which 
it is so desirable to possess. But seeing it is so, and that 
I am thus weak, is it not possible that this infirmity, in 
conjunction with not being aware of a command or war- 
rant to launch into deep water, may be a principal cause 
why, in the article of preaching, I am kept so near the 
shore ? Be this as it may, I feel, and hope ever to feel, 
that to grace or mercy, in bearing and forbearing, I am an 
infinite debtor. 



No. 167. To Sarah Squire. 



1830, 2 mo, 18. — How precious is hope ! so much so, 
that I think the apostle has somewhere said, we are 
saved by it. Indeed, it seems the happy medium between 
" the vast extremes of happiness and woe," which, in our 
present probationary state we can bear better than either 



278 



of them. Shall I give thee the following extract, from a 
letter of Samuel FotherguTs, as what may probably be no 
very inapt description of the state of some other minds? 

" I have nothing to glory in, and am w T eak : I have 
known strength. I am foolish ; I have been helped with 
wisdom. I am poor; but I have been enriched. The 
rod I have often merited; the staff hath often been re- 
vealed. I have nothing ; I am nothing : let the gain and 
praise be consecrated to Him, whose is the fulness of all 
wisdom, riches, and strength." 

No. 168. To Catherine Foster. 

1830, 3 mo. 5. — I am inclined to request thy attention 
with that of thy long-loved partner, my old and valued 
friend, to a few thoughts and observations, which, in 
connexion with you, have lately arisen and continue to at- 
tend my mind. 

That self-examination is an important duty I am per- 
suaded we shall all admit, and that the oftener we enter 
into it, the more we shall be humbled, and the more 
earnestly we shall seek, and consequently find, an esta- 
blishment on the Rock of Ages. And perhaps it is in 
union with another sentiment, founded on experience, 
that, by accepting our daily mingled portion of good and 
ill, as it may in inscrutable wisdom be handed us, we 
shall often find if received with acquiescence, that, at the 
bottom of our bitterest cup there lies a drop of the sweetest 
mercy ; or, to change the figure, — peace not unfrequently 
succeeds to conflict, as calm after a storm. 

These reflections, though not entirely new to me, have 



279 



been afresh excited during a season of exercise, not only 
on account of my own imbecility and unworthiness, but in 
the consideration also of the low and stripped state of our 
little religious society, and the smallness of meetings, both 
in this county and the borders of some neighbouring 
ones, for a great distance round my habitation. 

Under this discouraging view I was somewhat relieved 
by the recollection of Gideon s humiliation and acknow- 
ledgments, when called from a low estate into the Lord's 
service ; and I was enabled, in some degree, to appreciate 
these remarkable expressions of his : " Oh, my Lord, 
wherewith shall I save Israel? Behold! my family is 
poor in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father s house." 
Equally moving and contrite was another of his diffident 
queries : " Oh, my Lord, if the Lord be with us, why 
then is all this befallen us V* A language I have been ready 
to think so appropriate to our own times and circum- 
stances, that it may not improbably have passed through 
many minds. And yet, when we consider the state of 
Israel in Gideons day, and mark the successful result of 
his simple obedience, is it not enough to encourage the 
most fearful and feeble to endeavour after faithfulness; 
and, without aiming at his distinguished eminence, to do or 
to suffer whatever may be allotted them in their greatly 
diversified situations and callings? And thus, perhaps, 
every one capable of spiritual feeling, whether strong or 
weak, old or young, might, either by private supplication 
or public exercise, be brought to the help of the Lord 
against the mighty opposers of his truth and righteousness. 

In this train of thought my mind was somewhat un- 
expectedly turned, by an easy and not very unnatural 
transition, to the remembrance of my feelings in your 



280 



little meeting, one of the few times in which I have Yen-* 
tured to open my mouth in it as a minister, when this 
short passage of Scripture occurred to me in a lively man- 
ner ; and the recurrence of it has been accompanied with a 
degree of the same animating influence, even at this dis- 
tance of time, viz. " Thou hast a few names, even in Sardis^ 
who have not defiled their garments ; and they shall walk 
with me in white ; for they are worthy/' 

That our dear departed friend and sister, E. S., was 
in her life one of these few names, we shall have little 
hesitation in believing. But, whilst we can thus hope for 
the dead, who we trust have died in the Lord, we some- 
times find it difficult, encompassed as we are with in- 
firmities, to hope and trust sufficiently for ourselves : find- 
ing the warfare within and without, — a warfare that, per- 
haps, will end only with life, — to press so closely upon us, 
that the utmost we can do, after all former experience, is 
to pray that the door of the bride-chamber may not at last 
be closed against us ; but that, through the mercy of God 
in Christ Jesus, our immortal spirits, when freed from 
these tabernacles of earth, may be admitted into the least 
or lowest mansion, (if there are such distinctions in hea- 
ven,) prepared for the righteous! And my chief aim in all 
that I have said, is to encourage you, my dear friends, as 
I desire myself to be enabled, under all our weaknesses 
of body or mind, thus to be exercised before our gracious 
Creator and Preserver, who will not reject the petitions of 
the humble. In this holy faith and confidence it un- 
doubtedly was that the Psalmist thus expressed himself : 
" My flesh and my heart faileth ; but God is the strength 
of my heart, and my portion for ever/' I think you might 
also derive comfort from a perusal of the seventy-first 



281 



Psalm, parts of which seem peculiarly appropriate to the 
aged. 

Being myself lately turned seventy, and feeling as I 
do the aggressions of time upon my constitution, I am 
ready to conclude, that, at a considerably higher date of 
years, you may be sensible of these inroads in a still 
greater degree. "We have, indeed, occasion for each other s 
sympathy and best desires; and whilst I assure you that, 
rare as is our outward intercourse, you are not in this 
way forgotten by me, I would bespeak your remembrance, 
whenever you may be enabled to lift up your hearts on 
your own account, at the footstool of mercy. 

Xo. 169. To Josiah Forster. 

1330, 3 mo, 26. — What a miracle to man is man ! is 
an observation verified both physically and intellectually, 
not only in his curious formation, but in the great variety 
of person and character which we daily behold. Xor is 
even this more surprising than the changes, bodily and 
mental, of which an individual under different circum- 
stances is found to be susceptible — from health to sick- 
ness, joy to sorrow, a high elevation of thought and of feel- 
ing to a state of depression and anguish, which I think the 
Psalmist has compared to the very pains of hell. 

There is something in this capacity with which we are 
endowed for undergoing great and almost countless 
changes; that, abstractedly considered, sets my poor reason 
at a distance ; and of which, perhaps, thou canst not give 
a much better account. Must we not, then, in all hu- 
mility and reverence, conclude that man, the noblest in- 



282 



habitant of the Lord's earth, came from his Creators hand 
a miracle to himself? and that, as respects both body and 
mind, he is indeed fearfully constituted and wonderfully 

made ? 

I enjoy, as thou hast supposed, the return of another 
spring with its various beauties, of which, though in a 
comparatively low and flat situation, we have now for 
some weeks had many pleasant harbingers ; unfolding to 
us daily charms, which winter had till lately silenced or 
concealed. The flowers of the season now look very 
bright. The lambs play ; the rook, the wood-pigeon, and 
many smaller birds give us their different notes, and are 
building or preparing to build within sight of our win- 
dows. This, even in life's decline, I consider a privilege 
to my children, my grand- children, and myself, who, al- 
though with different eyes, and perhaps different emotions, 
yet each in our own way, are, I hope, allowably pleased 
with objects so animating, and, — as the works of infinite 
goodness and power — so perfect and so lovely. 



170. To Richard Cockix. 

1830, 4 mo. 22. — That sufferings abound in the world, 
in the church, and in private life, neither of us has need to 
be reminded; and therefore, though it is well to guard 
every point, I have thought thy caution, that, " elderly 
persons should beware of supineness," may not be so appli- 
cable to thee and me, as the danger of a contrary extreme 
from undue discouragement, because of the trials that sur- 
round us, and of fainting, — not sleeping, — under the bur- 
dens of our day. 



283 



For myself, I may acknowledge that herein consists my 
greatest apprehension of falling short in the path of duty ; 
so much so, that sometimes, when hard pressed from with- 
out, and a sense of divine support low within, I fly to the 
Scriptures for refuge, and am at seasons not a little com- 
forted and strengthened by so doing. On one of these 
occasions lately, my grain of faith and hope was increased, 
by a clearer view of the parable of the unjust Judge and the 
importunate Widow, than I remember to have had before. 
If a wicked mortal, from no worthier a motive than his 
own ease, would grant a petition, how much more proba- 
ble, even to the eye of reason, is it, that a Being, whose 
very essence is love, and who is clothed with every perfect 
and adorable attribute, should listen to the prayers of his 
poor and afflicted children, and, in the language of the 
text, avenge his own elect, who cry day and night unto 
Him ; though, to their fearful hearts, He may seem at 
times to delay his coming, and bear long with them. 

Innumerable are the passages, both in the Old and New 
Testament Scriptures, from which the Christian traveller 
may derive comfort and support, in low and trying sea- 
sons ; especially from such precious promises and assu- 
rances of the blessed Eedeemer as these ; " Fear not, little 
flock, for it is your Fathers good pleasure to give you the 
kingdom." (Luke, xiii. 32.) " Let not your heart be trou- 
bled ; ye believe in God, believe also in me." (John, xiv. 1.) 
And again, " Let not your heart be troubled, neither let 
it be afraid." (John, xiv. 27.) Indeed the whole of this 
chapter is a series of encouragement, instruction, and com- 
fort. 

What a treasure, then, is the Bible ! This is so much 
my real sentiment, that I am not ashamed to own to thee, 



284 



that in these seasons of obscurity and temptation, which 
may perhaps assail many of us, when invisible things ap- 
pear remote, and are seen as through a glass darkly ; — in 
some of these times of sore buffetting and trial, I hare been 
ready to lay my hands upon the sacred volume, and ex- 
claim, Well ! here is something tangible, even to my 
senses, to be at once seen, felt, and understood ; contain- 
ing narrative, doctrine, and truth ; and altogether forming 
such a degree of evidence of its divine authority, and of 
the eternal realities whereof it assures us, as I trust neither 
the sophistry of man nor the malice of the devil shall 
ever prevail with me to doubt, still less to renounce and 
disbelieve. 

In whatever we two may err, I believe we shall not be in 
much hazard of seeking repose upon the rolling and uneasy 
pillow of this world, to which I sometimes think almost 
every day adds a thorn. Can we, however favoured and 
privileged may be our lot, rest in such a situation ? May 
we be equally preserved from relaxing in our warfare, and 
from fainting before it be accomplished ! and then, through 
Him who forgiveth our sins, and giveth us the victory, 
even our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall experience a blessed 
and glorious exchange. 

I do not write thus, my dear friend, to instruct thee in 
these things, with which I know thou art well acquainted ; 
but I have thought it may not be amiss for us now and 
then to remind ourselves, and each other, of truth so im- 
portant. By thus comparing our experience, we may 
also, to use the language of a poet, be instrumental " In 
girding up each other to the race divine ; " and this might 
be a kindness to some of us, in whom nature grows feeble, 
and to whom the end of this race must be fast approaching. 



285 



No. 171. To JoSIAH FORSTER. 

Leiston, 1830, 6 mo. 2. — On approaching the bed of 
my dear Lydia I found that her disorder had made such 
progress, as to disqualify her for converse ; so that, al- 
though sensible and apparently pleased to see me, she 
could only reply to my query, if her mind was peaceful, 
by a whisper in the affirmative, and in about three hours 
she expired. This is quite a stroke upon us. Her poor 
husband, who considers himself to have been very happily 
married, suffers deeply and internally, whilst I am able to 
offer him very little consolation. 

How true it is, that our fairest theories, or even oar 
former experience, avail us little, in the extremity of sor- 
row, which, like a tempest or a torrent, carries them be- 
fore it. Affliction was no new thing to me. I had lost 
parents, wife, children, and many friends of different ages ; 
yet the present visitation found me encompassed by hu- 
man infirmity; it came over me somewhat like the strength 
of a giant upon the weakness of a child; and had not 
those fountains been opened, which seem to have been mer- 
cifully designed for the relief of a labouring breast, per- 
haps, old and feeble as I am, I might scarcely have been 
able to sustain the load. 

As it is, however, I am as well as it is at all reasonable 
to expect, and probably as is good for me ; though I al- 
ways expect to feel a void, in addition to many former 
ones, which nothing earthly can fill ; and as my dear child 
was beloved by those who knew her, I doubt not but di- 
vers will participate with me in this state of bereavement. 
But, amidst all our tribulation, some of us are enabled to 



286 



rejoice, in the precious hope that another prepared spirit, 
is, through the merits of its Redeemer and the mercy of its 
God, entered into everlasting rest. 

The last portion of Scripture which Lydia heard, I 
think on the day previous to her departure, was the two 
last chapters in the Revelations, which, as they are very 
beautiful, so I have also thought they might not be inap- 
propriate to such a scene in such an hour. 

A certain learned and pious writer has been very severe 
upon those who die of what he designates a broken heart, 
charging them with pride and self-will, if not with mad- 
ness. But so did not He who took upon him our nature, 
became a man of sorrows, and wept for his friend. Esti- 
mable as I hold those sublime and amiable virtues, pa- 
tience and resignation, I would rather weep incessantly 
over the graves of such as honest grief, " which comes at 
God's command," had accelerated thither, than load their 
memory with reproach. I do not mean by this an apology 
for giving way to immoderate sorrow ; on the contrary, I 
believe we ought to do all we can to suppress it, and even 
to pray for due submission. And it may, perhaps, afford 
thee some satisfaction to know, that, at the present junc- 
ture, I am able, though with tender emotion, to kiss the 
rod, and bless the hand that hath appointed it. 



No. 172. To Joseph Gurney. 

1830, 6 mo. 26. — It is almost with weeping^ that I express 
my apprehension that each of us may, by nature, be rather 
too sensitive for our peace; yet who would wish for 
apathy ? 



287 



I think I understand pretty well, not only the " mist," 
which thou sayest great excitement raises around thee ; but 
I find that it also in no inconsiderable degree, enervates 
and disinclines me for active engagements, and particu- 
larly for writing ; so that, whilst I can thankfully rejoice 
in the mental support vouchsafed to us both under recent 
and existing trials, I can readily believe that there is 
another part in us, which, like a leaf shaken by the wind, 
is really feeble and tremulous. An apostle has told us 
that when he was weak then he was strong ; and may 
not the converse of his experience be equally true ? 

Of our dear children, both of those departed and such 
as are yet spared to us, I frequently think ; and since my 
late bereavement of one very tenderly beloved, I have 
been struck with the different sensations which these 
remembrances of the two classes excite in my mind. For 
those who have died in the hope of mercy and forgive- 
ness through a blessed Mediator I feel a congratulation, 
comparable to joy unspeakable, on account of their being 
now set free from the dangers of temptation, the recurrence 
of sorrows, or the frequent visits of bodily and mental pain, 
to which humanity is liable. Whilst for those who with 
myself yet remain in a state of conflict and probation, 
whatever may be their condition or their prospects, there 
is not the same assurance of safety, the same completeness 
of satisfaction : they are as on a sea of glass, and if I ven- 
ture to rejoice over them at all, it is with mingled emo- 
tion. 



288 



No. 173. TO J. J. GURNEY. 

Leiston, 1830, 7 mo. 8. — I reached this widowed spot 
about half-past ten on the evening after we parted. 
The morning s dawn did not bring with it the joy that 
succeeds a night of anxiety. It being meeting-day 
I went where, though surrounded principally by the 
poor of this world, yet, as I believe there are some 
amongst them rich in faith, I was enabled once more to 
rise out of depression into a little fresh renewal of faith 
and hope, under the impression, that, though there appear 
in most places to be few that believe the Gospel, and still 
fewer who act up to their knowledge and belief, yet that 
there are a few scattered up and down as one of a tribe 
and two of a family, both rich and poor, who do thus be- 1 
lieve and are endeavouring to obey ; and that, though 
they may often have to dwell solitarily, both outwardly 
and inwardly, yet that they are not alone, because their I 
Saviour is with them. He is with them, whether they 
are always sensible of his presence or not, in heights and 
in depths, in prosperity and adversity, in joy and in sor- 
row ; yea, though they may at times have to pass through 
the valley of the shadow of death, (for we are in deaths 
oft, saith the apostle,) they need fear no evil, because He 
is their omnipresent God, and because his rod and his 
staff are ever near to comfort and uphold them. So that, 
without appropriating all this preciousness as that of my 
own immediate experience, the bare contemplation of it 
so far restored me to myself, as to make me glad I had 
been to meeting, and has caused me to remember the ex- 
ample of David, who, in times of difficulty and discourage- 



289 



ment, was wont to repair to the sanctuary, where he often 
found his doubts and his fears dissipated, his hopes re- 
vived, and the obscurity which hung upon his path 
changed into brightness and serenity. What a favour it 
is, my beloved friend, as thou well knowest, involved as 
we sometimes are, to approximate, ever so remotely, 
to these blessed attainments and experiences. Let us not 
seek great things for ourselves of any kind ; but let us 
desire with all fervency, for ourselves and for each other, 
the blessing of sure preservation! 

No. 174. To J. J. GURNET. 

1830, 9 mo, 24. — There is one thing in thy letter which 
really cheers me ; it is the use thou art endeavouring to make 
of the present permitted dispensation of an over-ruling and 
all- wise Providence ; of whose unremitting and universal 
attention to mundane afYairs, however mysterious in its 
operations, or however difficult we may sometimes find it 
to submit to its government, yet of such a government I 
am, both by my understanding, my feelings, and my ex- 
perience, most fully persuaded. 

I was both much pleased and satisfied with the con- 
cluding remarks of that part of thy letter which alludes to 
the imbecility and nothingness of man. I well know that 
those who plead for his self-sufficiency deride and oppose 
this humiliating doctrine ; still I firmly believe it; and some- 
times, in thought at least, bring against these minute philo- 
sophers and imperfect religionists, these words of the hymn. 

" A fever or a blow may shake 

Our wisdom's boasted rule, 
And of the brightest genius make 

A madman or a fool." 

o 



290 



Now, who is it that prevents or controls the effects of 
the fever or the blow ? what hand unseen could in a mo- 
ment resume our spirit and our breath ; consign our bodies 
to the dust, and send our souls, naked and trembling, be- 
fore the judgment-seat of Christ? Or, on the brighter 
side of the question, what power is it that defends and 
preserves us amidst innumerable perils, robs death of its 
sting, and the grave of its victory ; making objects the 
most appalling in their nature, welcome in all their hu- 
miliations ? 

I would only show, if I understand thee, how far we are 
agreed in our views of a superintending and particular 
Providence, (see better authority than ours, in the ninety- 
first Psalm, and in the ever-memorable sermon of our 
blessed Redeemer on the Mount,) contingent rather than 
fixed or necessary, which I think keeps us clear of a diffi- 
culty, that I am always very desirous of avoiding. 

Farewell, dear J. and M. May grace, mercy, and 
peace attend you ! What a comprehensive benediction ! 
yet I think I feel it. 

No. 175. To Peter Bedford. 

1830, 9 mo. 27. — The sorrows of the w^idow and the 
orphan — the difficulties which some have to encounter in 
their struggles with the world — the dereliction of others 
whose early days promised better things — the removal by 
death or otherwise of several hopeful young people, can- 
not and ought not to be viewed by me with indifference ; 
on the contrary, they sometimes affect me in a manner 
which I cannot easily describe. 



291 

In the superintendence of infinite and inscrutable wis- 
dom, I hope I am, in my lowest seasons, a firm believer ; 
and in my deepest afflictions I trust it is my endeavour to 
cling to the Rock of Ages,, as my only refuge, my only 
hope of glory. (See a beautiful and excellent hymn, en- 
titled " Christ the Rock of Ages," in Gurney' s collection.) 
May nothing, according to the apostle's persuasion, ever 
be able to separate us from this love of God, which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord! (Rom. viii. 38, 39.) 

No. 176. To Joseph Gurney.* 

1830, 9 mo. 30. — In answer to thy inquiry after my 
health, I may acknowledge, and I trust with some degree 
; of thankfulness^ that it is good • and as to the state of my 
mind, with due allowance for what I suppose we shall al- 
ways have to make allowance, as " the evils sufficient for 
the day," I perhaps have as little reason to complain. I 
have no doubt but we shall individually agree in the senti- 
ment, to which thou hast alluded, that, were it not for the 
belief u in a joyful resurrection," how poor would this 
world be ! May we not devoutly say, " Thanks be unto 
God," who hath provided us with a means adequate to our 
wants, in the gift of his Holy Spirit ; though, according 
to the highest authority, all the benefits w T e can enjoy on 

* This appears to have been his last letter to his intimate, 
long-loved, and justly valued friend, Joseph Gurney, of Lakenham, 
near Norwich, who died very suddenly on the 25th of the 12th 
month following, in his seventy-fourth year ; a minister justly 
esteemed among friends ; a man of great integrity and self-ex- 
amination ; and much attached to our Christian principles. 

o 2 



292 



earth will be mingled with " persecutions also ;" and again, 
44 In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good 
cheer, I have overcome the world." Thus said the blessed 
Redeemer, at an advanced and very important period of 
his mission to fallen man ; and being so near it, I will just 
add, that the reading of the succeeding chapter, the seven- 
teenth (of John,) generally inspires me with a feeling pe- 
culiar to the occasion, which I will not, and I believe to 
thee I need not, attempt to describe. 

I am glad that such good accounts can be given of the 
labours of the Committee of the Yearly Meeting, as it 
seems have reached us both from different quarters. So 
far as it has already proceeded, this measure of the Yearly 
Meeting appears to have been favoured, perhaps in few 
things more than by increasing the knowledge and the 
love of the visiters and visited, towards each other. This 
must be good, and may we not hope that, like bread cast 
upon the waters, it will be productive of benefits, some of 
which may not be fully elicited until many days hence. 



No. 177- To J. J. Guhney. 

1830, 12 mo. 6. — I was pleased with thy sketch of the 
grand scenery of some of our northern counties, and thy 
connecting it with a line from a beautiful and devout pas- 
sage of my favourite Cowper, made it not the less ac- 
ceptable. There, too, it seems, thou hast found a poet's 
corner, which, surrounded by mountain, lake, and river, I 
should, as a lover of nature, greatly prefer to a garret, or 
even a parlour, in the crowded city full. In many re- 
spects, I think such a situation must be very favourable to 



293 



literary pursuits, if, by thus abstracting us from practical 
subjects, it does not too much favour dreaming. 

It might be well, however, that thou wast cast there, 
and a part of thy proper business that thou hadst an oppor- 
tunity of endeavouring to rouse a certain celebrated author 
from some of his reveries, into which, whilst I acknowledge 
his talents, I think he has proved himself liable to fall, per- 
haps both in prose and in verse. To some such cause may 
probably be attributed his classing Friends, as I think he 
has done, in his " Book of the Church " among the crazier 
sects. If neither to slumber nor to absence, to what must 
we ascribe this strange expression ? I can find only one 
other solution — that the discipline of our Society, which 
by way of distinction we may call its morality, and for 
which he gives us high credit, was intelligible to his under- 
standing ; whilst the more spiritual parts of our profession, 
or its divinity, may have been as little comprehended by 
him as was the worship of the early Christians by those 
who called it heresy, or the reasoning of the apostle before 
Agrippa, when Festus thought him mad. 

*Jth. — How desirable is it for us at all times, but par- 
ticularly under existing circumstances, to keep our hold, as 
much as possible, on such sustaining portions of Scripture 
as this : " Greater is He that is in you than he that 
is in the world ; " and it is worthy of observation how 
much they abound, both in the Old and New Testament, 
especially in the Psalms. David was often in danger and 
in trouble ; and in his deepest conflicts he endeavoured to 
support his faith by considerations of the wisdom, power, 
and goodness of the Lord. He has described these exer- 
cises under various forms of expression, which seem to be 
summed up in one brief sentence: " What time I am 



294 



afraid, I will trust in Thee." May we, my dear friend, in 
all our difficulties, be able to center here i 

I can scarcely quit this ground without making a short 
remark upon the extraordinary scenes, that, within these 
few latter years, have been passing before our eyes in the 
higher circles of human society. How, indeed, have the 
mighty fallen ! — some into their graves, others into exile ; 
whilst not a few of various nations have become the sport 
of popular vicissitude, and, in proportion to the height 
of their previous elevation, have, as I think Dr. Johnson 
expresses it, been hurled from the very pinnacle of their 
possessions and desires, with louder ruin, to the gulfs below. 

But when thus indulging in freedom to a friend, I am 
sometimes, as at present, jealous, lest I should assume a 
tone that does not become me, and thereby any should be 
led to think more highly of me than they ought to think ; 
which truly they must do, if they think me anything of 
myself that is good : in this sense, abstractedly, I am no- 
thing. And not so much that I may appear humble, as 
that thou mayst not be mistaken, to thee I will say, that 
it would afford me a satisfaction, which, in this life I 
scarcely hope to possess, if negation were all : but, alas ! 
for my deeper and more positive abasement, I have to con- 
fess, that, in the time of ignorance, I classed among the 
chief of sinners, and, since my illumination, I have never 
been able to rise higher than the weakest and most un- 
worthy of believers. Yes; such, my dear friend, have 
been and are my humiliations, that, in truth and soberness, 
I believe this to be a faithful portrait. Yet, oh ! the for- 
giveness of sins, through the sufferings and mediation of 
Jesus Christ ! Having received a glimpse of this mercy, 
I faint not, but with feeble and faltering steps endeavour 



295 



to press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling 
of God in Christ Jesus. 

No. 178. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 

1830, 12 mo. 14. — Is not the destroyer gone forth, [al- 
luding to incendiary fires, then prevailing to an alarm- 
ing extent in some of the agricultural counties,] and does 
he not, though not in the form of pestilence, yet in a very 
terrific shape, walk in darkness ? Happy will it be for those 
whose doors have received the mark of protection ; but who 
dare appropriate to themselves even the hope of such a dis- 
tinguished mercy ! For myself, I am free to acknowledge 
that I find it easier to believe than to hope. I have no 
doubt of the power, wisdom, and mercy of the Creator and 
Governor of the world, God over all, blessed for ever. I 
firmly believe; but in the face of such 1111 worthiness, to 
hope, seems to require a deeper exercise of faith. And yet can 
we expect too much, so long as we are dedicated and obe- 
dient, from Him who has promised the forgiveness of sins ; 
and whose beloved Son has given us an assurance, sealed 
with his own blood, of immortality and eternal life, in a 
future and a better world ? 

Here then, my beloved friend, kept from soaring by 
fear, and from sinking by hope, let us take our stand ; dili- 
gently watching the eye of our gracious Lord and Master ; 
and when the signal is given, taking a step in the ability 
which He may be pleased to afford ; and let us also try to 
believe that this will be equal to the trials of our day. 
As thy day so shall thy strength be. 



296 



NO. 179. To J. J. GURNEY. 

1831, 3 mo, 15. — Whether we appear amiable or ex- 
cellent in the sight of man, whose is the glory ? Surely 
not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us ! weak, vile, and unwor- 
thy as we are by nature, but unto thy name be the praise, 
for thy mercy and thy truth's sake. Self-complacency is 
bad — self-righteousness is worse ; for " if we wash our 
hands in snow-water, and make them never so clean," my 
judgment, perhaps I might say my experience, tells me 
that it is of preventing or assisting grace, that " we are not 
plunged into the ditch, so that our own clothes should ab- 
hor us." And were we perversely to continue in misusing 
and misapplying the Lord's gifts, there is much reason to 
apprehend that our fall, as that of some awful examples, 
might be great and deplorable. 

Therefore, may a wise and gracious God honour us or 
not, as He sees meet, and in his own way and time — let us be 
careful, according to the ability afforded us, to return thanks, 
under every varied dispensation of his unerring wisdom ! 
And have we, my beloved friend, ever known sweeter peace 
than when, in true resignation, we could adopt (and it 
is then only we can adopt) this memorable line, 

" For all I bless Thee, most for the severe." 

This is, indeed, the solemn feast of feeling; and here 
is the Sabbath of the mind. 



297 

No. 180. To Josiah Forster. * 

1831, 5 mo, 4. — After we parted at Leeds, I did not reach 
Gedney until last sixth -day evening, which we were all then 
favoured to do in safety. On entering my native county, 
for which, with all its faults, I may perhaps feel something 
of the predilection which I believe is common to man for 
his home ; yet, making allowance for this, I am ready to 
think it does possess, in an agricultural point of view at 
least, some real advantages over most other counties I have 
seen. It probably contains a greater proportion of good 
land, and a much smaller one of land entirely out of cul- 
tivation ; and as the result of these causes, a better condi- 
tion of the labouring poor, particularly as respects their 
food and clothing, their comfortable cottages and gardens % 
nor am I inclined hastily to admit a sentiment which I 
know has gone abroad, of our being so much as is imagined, 
behind most other places in the different branches of edu- 
cation, religious, moral, or literary. 

It is indeed true, that we have not so many public 
schools, either infant or adult ; nor may we have an equal 
number of reading or scientific associations. These ac- 
knowledged advantages, the dispersed character of our 
agricultural population, in many parts, to a considerable 
extent and degree, almost necessarily precludes. But in 
the most remote situations with which I am acquainted, 
may generally be found, either in the nearest village, or it 
may be under the solitary roof of some aged female, the 
means of acquiring the common rudiments of learning, in 

* Written after a visit to the meetings of Friends in Yorkshire, 
under appointment of the Yearly Meeting. 

o3 



298 



connexion with what seems of nearly equal importance, 
and which the meanest of these little seminaries are I 
believe, found in no very small degree to impart, habits of 
cleanliness, quiet, subordination, and diligence. 

Nor ought we in this review entirely to overlook the 
great number of Dissenters, and their places for worship ; 
especially the Methodists, that are to be found in various 
parts, where, fifty years ago, from seclusion and po- 
verty, the inhabitants were very much neglected. In 
these sequestered spots, we may now frequently find the 
neat little meeting-house, with its useful auxiliary, the 
" Sunday" or Evening School, each contributing, though 
in a hidden and unobtrusive manner, to the civilization 
and improvement of the lower orders of the people. 

As much of what I have just premised might escape 
the notice even of the traveller, who should visit only a 
few of our principal towns, in search of information on 
the question of intellectual improvement, I am the more 
inclined to say a little to thee on the subject ; not merely 
as an apology for a district which I think has been some- 
what under-rated, but also because I know thee to be 
interested in these matters. Wilt thou allow me one word 
more ? Our peasants, both parents and children, will I 
believe be found to give to a stranger as civil an answer, 
and in as intelligible language, as he will meet with else- 
where : and if in this I do not miscalculate, I must think 
it a criterion of some weight. 

To turn now from the progress of mental to that of the 
material soil, I find, that, in some places, such as what was 
formerly denominated Lincoln heath, and the Weald or 
Wolds, the improvement is very great. Within the me- 
mory of man, these portions of our county presented a 



299 



wild and bleak appearance, being principally open and 
occupied as rabbit-warrens ; whereas, they are now almost 
entirely well inclosed, producing good crops of corn, 
turnips, and seeds, or artificial grasses. This applies to 
the higher lands, whilst in the lower division of Holland, 
in which is to be found dear Gedney, the rich appearance 
of our best old pastures in this fine spring, long accustomed 
as I have been to see them, almost surprises me. When 
these are contrasted, not only with the moors, but with a 
great proportion of inclosed and cultivated land in York- 
shire, I am not at much loss to account for the extreme 
difficulty, which many occupiers of poor soil at high rents 
find, in obtaining a bare subsistence, or that they feel 
themselves driven by a strong necessity from their country. 
I should like to walk with thee over some of our best 
grazing land, a small proportion of the whole, which is 
just now in its brightest appearance ; the grass is so 
thick, so small in its blade, so verdant in its colour, so 
short and so soft to the foot, that altogether it might 
i almost require a poet fully to describe it. However, in 
my sober language, it happens to be beauty which I have 
eyes to see ; and viewing it as I do, I am reconciled to my 
lowly allotment, although I am aware that wit has at one 
time called it a " land of frogs;" and at another " the 
paradise of graziers and gosherds." 

And thus, my friend, we are almost brought to the 
conclusion, that it does not much signify where a man's 
home is, if he is but contented ; and whilst we allow the 
mountaineer to be delighted with the hill that lifts him 
to the storm, we may by the same rule suffer the inha- 
bitants of a lower region to rejoice in the plain that feeds, 
and to commend the bog that bears him. 



300 



I had almost determined to make P. and his sister, my 
representatives to the Yearly Meeting ; but on trying it, 
it did not seem quite satisfactory. I must therefore, though 
I am altogether unworthy of appearing in such a cause, 
prepare to meet it. May I, and may all who engage in 
it, be preserved, as on the right hand, and on the left ! 

No. 181. To J. J. Gurney. 

1831, 7 vno. 15. — Thy truly welcome letter found 
me somewhat, as thou seemest to have anticipated, if 
not overspread by the horror of great darkness, which 
is said to have fallen upon the father of the faithful, yet 
covered by a cloud so dense and obscure, as to be almost 
impervious to my spiritual vision. So that whilst the 
outward creation of which I am an admirer was smiling 
around me, birds singing, flowers blooming, sheep and 
oxen enlivening, by their various motions, the pastures 
on which they quietly grazed, every animated being cheer- 
ful, and inanimate ones gay ; yet, alas, for poor man ! the 
fallen lord of all this loveliness, it remains for him occa- 
sionally and deservedly to prove his exile, even from these 
splendid ruins of Paradise ; it is for him to know, as I can- 
not doubt, but thou, my beloved friend, as well as myself 
hast often experienced — 

" How ill the scenes that offer rest, 
And heart that cannot rest, agree." 

Since writing this sentence, 1 opened upon a hymn which 
proved as I have often experienced, how interesting it is to 
find our thoughts and troubles expressed by a congenial 



301 



mind, though this may deprive us of all claim to originality, 

" How tedious and tasteless the hours, 
When Jesus no longer I see ! 
Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers, 
Have lost all their sweetness for me." 

Thus circumstanced or nearly thus, it is no wonder 
that I was cheered by thy letter. We, I trust, are no 
strangers to the evil of our own hearts : the condition of 
our religious society, and of practical religion generally, is 
confessedly low ; whilst the state of the multitude, under 
every name and in every country, appears to be truly 
affecting. And are not these legitimate causes for sorrow, 
yea for mourning ? so deep, that it is a great favour to be 
enabled either by immediate or instrumental means, to 
keep our heads above water; but how opportunely do 
we often find these helps are vouchsafed to us, in that 
mercy which does not suffer us to be tried beyond that we 
are able to bear, but with the temptation provides a way 
to escape, as saith the apostle, that ye may be able to 
bear it. 

16^, — There is one thing which occasioned me some 
exercise in London, and has attended me since I came 
home, — a jealousy or fear, lest amid the shakings to which 
thou hast alluded, and which do indeed threaten to disturb 
everything that can be shaken, — I have been, and am 
anxious, lest at such a time any of my dear kindred of 
friends should be moved from the one only true foundation, 
the Rock of Ages, Jesus Christ the righteous, and Him 
crucified. O that none of us may be either driven or 
allured from the foot of his cross ! 

To prevent in times like the present this greatest of all 
calamities happening to us, must, I apprehend, require on 



302 



our part close watchfulness unto prayer ; as it is quite to 
be believed that our unwearied spiritual adversary will 
not omit so favourable an opportunity for practising upon 
us; it may be, both as a lion 5 a serpent, an angel of 
light, a reformer, or a philosopher ? We shall have need 
therefore of a wisdom superior to his, or to our own, to 
discover him under any of his transformations, and of a 
power above all the power of the enemy, even the whole 
armour of light to resist him when discovered. 

It is, I think, one of the weaknesses of human nature ; 
and one I also believe of which our enemy often seeks 
to avail himself, when we are honestly endeavouring to 
avoid one extreme to hurry us into another, overstepping 
truth and rectitude, which will be generally found to lie 
between them. Thus, in departing from what now appears 
to be the striking singularity of a costume, which two 
centuries ago I suppose had nothing uncommon about it - s 
but which, by the youth of our Society of latter time, 
seems to have been considered as a cross unnecessarily 
severe, or somewhat like a yoke too grievous to be borne ; 
whilst I admit that mere form may be overrated, and can 
of itself avail us little, I do believe that the true Christian 
will always be distinguished by his moderation, his hu- 
mility, and even his singularity. If, in this evil day, we 
sustain the character described in the first verse of the 
Psalms, we shall find it as true an axiom that, to be right 
we must often be singular ; so that, in relaxing, as we 
appear in some instances to be doing, from what perhaps 
may be considered the rigours of our ancient practice, I do 
very earnestly desire we may stop at the right point, at 
that common, and if we may so say, that simple simpli- 
city in dress, language, and furniture, which may be read 



303 



and understood of all men, in all times ; preserving those 
who through faith and obedience are concerned to walk 
therein, out of the fearful, costly, and troublesome whirl- 
pool of fashion, the vain customs, maxims, and sinful 
delight of a fallen and degenerate world, lying in wicked- 
ness. 

Thou wilt perhaps think I am expressing myself rather 
earnestly ; but it is indeed my conviction, that, from des- 
pising the day of small things, many have fallen by little 
and little ; and that, if these ever rise again to usefulness in 
our Society, it must be by a close attention to what they 
are too apt to consider minor particulars, which in my 
view of them are £ only portions of a chain, from which, 
whether we apply the figure to a law of nature or of grace, 
whatever link we strike, disorganizes the whole. 

For similar reasons, I have desired that in this critical, 
not to say captious age, we may not suffer ourselves to be 
inadvertently led into vain disputation on points that have 
been long and well settled ; for though it is undoubtedly 
right to give a reason to those who rightly inquire of the 
hope that is in us, yet, where questions are put in mere 
curiosity, or, which is worse, in a cavilling spirit, I believe 
silence would generally be best for all parties. For this I 
think we have the highest example and authority. If 
wise men knew by what sort of characters and from what 
sort of motives they are sometimes interrogated, they 
would think their time and talents sadly wasted by 
feeding a disposition, which in my opinion wants starving, 
if it were possible, even to death. I think thou wilt 
understand what sort of querists, scarcely deserving the 
name of disputants, I mean ; the very last I am sure thou 
wouldst wish to encourage : and I have some reason for 



304 



the sentiments I have just expressed, however uncharitable 
they may at first sight appear. 

In making a few general remarks on the writings of our 
early predecessors, I would that we always approached them 
with caution and tenderness, treading lightly on the ashes 
or remains of the honourable dead. With the controver- 
sies of these ancient worthies, or their manner of conducting 
them according to the spirit of their age, we have now, 
I apprehend, little or nothing to do. Neither are we 
called upon to imitate or defend the sometimes obscure and 
mysterious, or, compared with that of the present day, 
almost absolute tautology of their style. One thing it 
may be well for us to remember, that, from these voluminous 
works, abounding as they confessedly do with great redun- 
dancy of expression, may be extracted an essence of as pure 
and sublime truth — if we except the Holy Scriptures, and 
their authors, — as perhaps ever fell from the lips or flowed 
from the pen of man ; so that on the whole I am inclined 
to believe the best apology for the writings in question, 
if indeed they need one, would be an attentive and unpre- 
judiced perusal of them, when they would perhaps be 
found to be their best, and perhaps altogether sufficient 
expositors. 

As to my health I believe it to be pretty good, though 
I often seem to myself very languid, and as one declining ; 
yet not so as to prevent my enjoying the deep retirement 
of my outward habitation, even whilst viewing it as a 
prelude to still deeper shades. Desire for me, my dear friend, 
when thou canst, that, whenever summoned to the dark 
passage of the grave, it may only prove to me, through the 
mercy of God in Christ Jesus, a dim portal^ to eternal 
glory. 



305 



No. 182. To Carolina Harris. 

1831, 7 mo. 27. — In addressing an "elect lady," I 
think the beloved disciple tells her, that he rejoiced greatly 
because he found of her children walking in the truth ; 
an experience that I apprehend may have been realized by 
many a parent and elder since his day, both on account of 
their own, and the offspring of their dear friends. Would 
that none of them had proved the reverse of this experience 
to be equally true, namely, that, in the course of their pil- 
grimage they had found no greater sorrow, than in behold- 
ing so many who were endeared to them by the tender 
ties of nature and of friendship, walking not in, but out of 
this most excellent rule of faith and life, — the truth as it is 
in Jesus. 

Could young persons be made fully sensible how much 
it is in their power to increase or diminish the happiness 
of age, that it is for them either to strew its pillow with 
roses or to plant it with thorns ; did they believe this, 
I think some of them would pause before deciding on the 
course they take ; and though it might be at considerable 
sacrifice of inclination to duty, pursue a very different one. 
For that the grey hairs of many a parent and parental 
friend, have, since the times of the Patriarch who antici- 
pated such a close of his life, been accelerated by sorrow 
to the grave, is, I fear, a fact too evident to be doubted. 
Yet even here we can scarcely forbear exclaiming, O the 
excellence, the paramount superiority of the Christian 
religion, above every system or scheme devised by the 
wisdom or the strength of man. In the most extreme 
cases, Christianity offers a relief and a remedy to its afflic- 



306 



ted votaries of every character and under every circum- 
stance. They find present relief in resignation and hope, 
and ultimately a full recompense for all their sufferings in 
the ineffable felicity, and the crown immortal, which await 
the successful issue of their warfare. 

So that whether the believer s sorrows be of a domestic 
nature, which I think are the bitterest, or proceed from a 
more extraneous source ; whether he languish under the 
severity of parents, the unkindness of a companion, the 
undutifulness of children, or the unfaithfulness of a friend, 
still, under any or every of these trials, he is not left 
destitute ; an arm underneath supports him. If the little 
span of my life must be spent in grief, and my years in 
sighing ; if indeed I must die a lingering death upon the 
painful cross of sorrow, yet enable me I beseech Thee, 
O Lord, as with my latest breath to whisper, Thy will, thy 
holy and adorable will, and not mine, be done. 

I trust I am not insensible to the solemnity of a subject 
into which I have been somewhat inadvertently led by a 
desire to point towards a mark, which, who would venture 
to say they have attained, yet who but would acknowledge 
that it deeply concerns them to press after it ? 

The lamentation by the prophet Isaiah, (chapter the 
fifty-first,) — " There is none to guide her among all the 
sons whom she has brought forth ; neither is there any 
that taketh her by the hand of all the sons that she hath 
brought up," is descriptive of the state of Jerusalem, when 
she had neither sons nor daughters to care for her. I 
have sometimes thought this may not only be applicable 
to a city or a church, but even to the pious parent or 
guardian of disobedient and gainsaying children. But 
waiving this particular point, there have been times in my 



307 



experience, if I may venture to refer to it, when the three 
last verses of the chapter just referred to have afforded me 
peculiar support, as being figuratively descriptive of or com- 
parable to the bottom of Jordan, preservation there, and 
bringing up a stone of memorial from thence. 0 that 
iu every future swelling of this mighty stream, should 
such be permitted, I may submissively enter the flood ; 
and as with my head just above water stand still the ap- 
pointed time ! 

This language would probably appear mysterious, if not 
unintelligible, to many a pious Christian, who may never 
have been plunged into the depth to which it alludes, but 
mercifully conducted on his spiritual journey, by a 
shorter and easier course. Yet to those, and such I believe 
there are, who have been safely brought through these con- 
flicting experiences ; to such a reader, the being put in 
remembrance of what themselves have passed through, 
may be sweetly harmonious, as a morning or an evening 
song, on the banks of deliverance. 

Xo. 183. To Josiah Forster. 

1831, 9 mo. 2. — During my attendance of our last 
Yearly Meeting as well as before and since, I have felt a 
degree of anxiety, lest, in the present times of excitement 
and agitation, (in w T hich almost everything that can be 
shaken seems to be put in motion,) any of the members of 
our little Society should be drawn from the only sure 
foundation — J esus Christ the righteous. There can scarcely 
be a doubt but that in such a season of general commo- 
tion, our grand spiritual adversary will be very active in 



308 



endeavouring to deceive the simple by his wiles, and to 
mislead the inexperienced by his transformations ; " but 
we," saith the apostle, " are not ignorant of his devices." 
And some there are, of lower authority than Paul, who 
have suffered too much by them, to forget the manner in 
which and by whom they have been betrayed. These 
know that their enemy can assume all colours and all cha- 
racters. In times of persecution or adversity he is a roar- 
ing lion or a ravening wolf ; whilst, in the smoother season 
of prosperity and outward ease, he puts on the subtlety of 
a serpent, becomes a reformer, a philosopher, and even, 
when it may suit his purposes, an angel of light ; thus 
leading from the simplicity of the truth, and from under 
the power of the cross of Christ ; which, as they are his 
greatest bane or opponents, so I think they will be ac- 
knowledged to constitute the strength and the beauty of 
the Christian. So superlatively excellent are the orna- 
ments of a meek and quiet spirit, that, although levity may 
sometimes affect to despise, yet the sober judgment, even 
of the scorner, is found by his own confession to approve 
them. 

Entirely to change the subject, the operation of the 
Beer-bill, in the country at least, I consider to be so de- 
moralizing and mischievous, that I could scarcely express 
my many objections to it in too strong language, and 
therefore conclude it safest, as a man professing modera- 
tion, to say but little. The following anecdote may afford 
a little illustration. A poor but simple cottager, in speak - 
ing to my daughter on the additional facilities and tempt- 
ations to drunkenness which these new beer-shops afforded, 
remarked, that they were enough to craze poor wives and 
mothers. This woman, whom I know well, was, I believe, 



309 



too deeply versed in her argument to concede it to a na- 
tion ; and she supported it by such a statement of facts as 
I think neither the collective wisdom nor the collective elo- 
quence even of a British senate could gainsay or invalidate. 
Thou mayst perhaps perceive, as is indeed the case, that I 
am really grieved by this thing, which, though I am very 
little of a politician, I cannot but consider to have been a 
great error in legislation. Had the duty been taken off 
malt, the whole family of a poor man might have derived 
some benefit ; or even if tippling in these pothouses had 
been prohibited, the mischief would not have been so ex- 
tensive. As it is, the whole weight of the law appears to 
me to be on the side of vice and starvation. The men get 
drunk abroad, whilst the women and children pine at 
home. 

My mind is sometimes apt to be rather low, if I dwell 
too long and exclusively upon human weakness in a state 
of probation. Lifted up and cast down — changed from 
vessel to vessel — alternately tossed like a ball from one 
extreme to another, without ability to bear any of them 
well : — thus exercised, is it surprising if poor nature should 
shrink, and, that, like the disciples at sea, we exclaim, 
" Lord, carest thou not that we perish ? " Yet weak as we 
confessedly are, how have we been helped hitherto ! let us 
not then despair, but hope to the end. 

No. 184. To J. and H. C. Backhouse. 

1831, 9 mo. 29. — I sincerely hope the enemy of peace, 
who has sown discord in some other places, may not be 
suffered to introduce it here. And yet I am sometimes 
jealous; and in these unsettled times, when everything 



310 



that can be shaken seems to be in motion, I have been of 
late more than ordinarily jealous, lest he who beguiled 
Eve by his subtlety, should by any means get an entrance 
among us, if not as a lion or as a bear, yet under the 
equally dangerous transformation of an angel of light, as 
a guise more adapted to our present improved state of 
education and intellectual refinement. 

We know that learning has its appropriate tempt ations ? 
and knowledge its peculiar dangers ; so that, I think, with 
all our acknowledged advantages, we have more need of 
watchfulness against being puffed up or bewildered by 
them, than might be the case with our rude forefathers, 
though, doubtless, they had their temptations and trials 
fitted to their state. For I quite believe that both the 
unlearned and the learned, the wise and the ignorant, have 
one common enemy and one common salvation ; and that this 
salvation is of the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, through 
the blessed, eternal Spirit, to which I think the New Tes- 
tament bears abundant witness. And to you, my valued 
friends, I can make the appeal, do we not find it true in 
experience ? Oh, what should we be without the appointed 
Saviour, in all his divine offices, and in the completeness of 
his character ! 

As to Unitarianism, I consider it in many cases to be 
the first step towards what thou hast justly denominated 
something; further on the road to destruction. I have a 
very low opinion of that man's practical and consistent 
Theism who denies the divinity of Christ. For what sig- 
nify sophistical distinctions, or the most sublime epithets 
and exalted character, as applied only to the Father, if we 
deny the Son, who has declared himself to be the way to 
Him? 



311 



No. 185. To Peter Bedford. 

1831, 10 TYio. 31. — Under all the disadvantages and hu- 
miliations of our poor yet dear little Society, there is, I 
believe, amongst us a people, as in Israel of old, a remnant, 
much overlooked it may be by the world, and even des- 
pised by its Goliaths, who would not willingly bow the 
knee to Baal or kiss his image. May this little band in- 
crease; and few though they appear, may we, under 
every trial and mutation, be found enrolled among them ! 

Locality of outward situation and circumstance are in 
themselves very inferior considerations. Thus, in the 
-hade and retirement of country life, I have often found — 

How ill the scenes that offer rest, 
And heart that cannot rest, agree. 

Whilst, in the crowded and noisy metropolis, thou hast, I 
doubt not, enjoyed that quiet habitation, into which the 
Lord's children are at seasons permitted to enter; a rest 
which, as neither solitude nor silence can of themselves 
procure, so neither can tumult much disturb, certainly not 
destroy. Still, with poor Cowper, I love the country. 

No. 186. To J. J. Gurney. 

1831, 11 mo. 4. — The near approach of joining the 
committee for visiting London and Middlesex Quar- 
terly Meeting is felt by me, in some proportion, I trust, 
to its importance, to be indeed weighty. If I may judge 



312 



by my state of mind lately, I shall leave home in too 
great weakness, to adopt the language of David's faith, 
when he said, " Though a host should encamp against me, 
my heart shall not fear ; though war shall rise against 
me, in this will I be confident." I have been made thank- 
ful, however, in the remembrance and appropriation of a 
few supplicatory expressions of the prophet Jeremiah, 
" Heal me, 0 Lord, and I shall be healed ; save me, and 
I shall be saved ; for thou art my praise," (xvii. 14.) 

No. 187. To Sarah Squire. 

1831, 11 mo. 23. — Although I too have known times 
when I should have been glad to be prepared and released ; 
or in other words that the important and arduous work of 
the sours salvation might be cut short in righteousness and 
mercy ; yet I have found, as I doubt not but that thou hast 
also done, that both the time and manner for effecting 
this must be left in other and better hands than my own ; 
and that I must neither with Joshua continue to lie 
prostrate on the ground, nor with Elijah remain hid in a 
cave; but rather seek for a renewal of patience and 
ability to know and to do the Lord's will, either in act or 
sufferance, adopting the apostle's language, " Seeing we 
have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint 
not." 

No. 188. To J. J. Gurnet, 

1832, 4 mo. 20. — I sometimes think, (or ought I to say 
imagine ?) that such redeemed spirits as, after traversing this 



313 



world's wilderness, and crossing the deep waters of Jordan 
are mercifully admitted into the heavenly Canaan, a land 
flowing with milk and honey ; that these happy souls may 
there be classified either as stars according to their mag- 
nitude and glory, as vessels by their various capacities for 
receiving and containing the ineffable felicity of which all 
shall be full, or which is an idea distinct from either of 
these as minds possessing different temperaments, according 
to their affinities and attractions. In either of the two 

, former cases I can easily believe my own situation must 
be a very low, yet possibly not a less thankful one than 
that of the rapt seraph, who with brighter effulgence, not 
more ardent love, adores and burns in nearer approach to 
the throne of God and of the Lamb : but should my last 
supposition, congeniality, prove to be the best, then comes 
the pleasing dream, that, all other destinations apart, even 
we may rejoice and sing together. Thou wilt perceive as 
I do, that this is all speculation,— I think there is no heresy 
in it, and I hope that between us it may be harmless, and 

; having heaven for its subject, cheering ; for, however un- 
worthy we may be, 'tis sw T eet to think of heaven. 

* ' ' That we want power as well as precept, may 
perhaps be considered an axiom in Christian divinity. I 
have of late been impressed w T ith the insufficiency of 
precept, however imparted, without accompanying ability 
to reduce it to practice, convinced as I am that not all I 
have heard from my fellow mortals, or read in the best of 
books, would enable me to support the character of a 
practical Christian, without something also of that sub- 
stance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen ; 
which the apostle appears to consider, not only as the 

| basis, but the essence of a faith superior to that of the 



314 



understanding, in connexion and co-operation with which, 
I think, we can only receive power to become the sons of 
God. I cannot doubt, my dear friend, but that whilst 
thou art diligently and earnestly engaged in unfolding 
the doctrines of Christianity, and illustrating the principles 
of our peculiar profession of it, thou often findest it necessary 
to recommend the attention of thy hearers and readers to 
the root of both, Christ within the hope of glory, without 
whom by his good Spirit in the heart, neither can doctrine 
be rightly received and understood, nor principle brought 
as it ought to be, into daily life and conversation. 

" He that believeth on the Son of God hath the wit- 
ness in himself" said an apostle, and this witness I think 
is an evidence of invisible things, something that cannot 
be shaken, of universal application and benefit, on which 
the soul may safely rest. TTere it not for recurrence 
to, and a reliance upon this unspeakable gift, I am 
free to confess that there are moments in which almost 
everything else seems inadequate to my support — seasons 
wherein both the mystery of godliness and the mystery of 
iniquity, or in other words, the inscrutable nature of the 
Divine economv in the government of this lower world, 
with that greatest of all paradoxes, the conduct of misguided 
and sinful man. would greatly perplex and endanger me. 

As it is, sustained, I trust, by a portion of the faith 
alluded to, I struggle on, resolving what is strange and 

' CO ' C O 

embarrassing in human conduct, into the trials and temp- 
tations attendant on a fallible and corrupt yet free agent 
in a state of probation, believing literally and in sim- 
plicity, such portions of the sacred records as may be 
opened to my understanding, and receiving with humble 
reverence what may be secret and unrevealed in holy 



315 

writ, on the testimony and faithfulness of its divine Author, 
of whose existence, supremacy, and wisdom, I have been 
assured, not merely or principally by hearing or reading, 
but by the too generally despised mediums — or rather 
sources — feeling and experience; mediums which many 
even among the pious and learned, are too much afraid of 
accrediting, lest they should become, or be accounted, 
enthusiasts, fanatics &c. ; though by this dereliction from 
that essential faith of which we have spoken, and which is 
too obvious in some of their writings, they appear to me to 
fall short of the truth, and to deprive themselves and others 
of much good. 

21st. — I went a few weeks since to Runcton, to visit our 
late mutually esteemed friend A. M. G., when she was 
near the close of her life. How sweetly on this occasion, 
I remembered Addison, " See in what peace a Christian 
can die !" and Young, 

"The chamber where the good man meets his fate. 
Is privileged beyond the common walk of virtuous life. 
Quite on the verge of heaven." 

I believe feelings correspondent with these animating ex- 
pressions were at times very prevalent, during the rather lin- 
gering and painful illness of our worthy friend. I cannot 
help feeling how my valued cotemporaries, one by one, glide 
from my view, whilst I am at present left in the enjoy- 
ment of a degree of health and strength, which, — my age 
and what often passes within considered,- — almost surprises 
me. So true it is, that body sometimes supports mind, 
and vice versa : this is encouramno- when we see how both 
often languish and sink together. 

p 2 



316 



No. 189. To Josiah Forster. 

1832, 5 mo. 4. — Connected with the subject of death, I 
may tell thee, that one evening lately I went, as I am occasi- 
onally wont to do, to visit the little cemetery in which, for 
many generations, the remains of my forefathers have been 
laid; where also rest those of my parents, my wife, and three 
of my children, and where probably, ere long, my own dust 
shall mingle with theirs. On returning homewards at an 
hour when the cottagers were in their houses, the birds 
and the beasts reposing, and the weather perfectly calm, 
I was struck by the surrounding scene, which seemed as it 
were to place me alone in the world. Thus circumstanced, 
my mind was almost unconsciously raised — for it seems as 
if we could not help localizing even invisible things — 
towards that home beyond the skies, to which from infancy 
to age, through all life's vicissitudes, it has been led at 
times to aspire, sometimes with hope, often with fear and 
disc our agem ent . 

Perhaps partly from temperament, partly from rural 
habits, and partly from age, which loves and wants quiet- 
ness, or it may be, from their united influence, — but I can 
scarcely tell thee, how thankful I sometimes feel for the 
retirement of my home ; that lodge in the wilderness which 
thou hast seen. Here I can not only see a coach pass in 
the distance, without hearing the noise of its wheels, but 
which I value much more, here I can sigh in secret, and 
only emerge from my obscurity, when, as it may be well 
they sometimes do, circumstances draw me reluctantly 
out of it. And yet I hope I am neither an ascetic nor a 
misanthrope ; I am sure I would not affect these cha- 
racters. 



317 



No. 190. To J. J. Gurney. 

1832, 7 mo - 7« — Much as I find in myself to bewail, I 
think these solicitudes may not be altogether on my own 
account. For my children, my friends, and the church, 
especially that section of it to which I am by birth and 
judgment attached, I feel much ; not too much, yet at 
times enough to make me so weary — perhaps I ought 
rather to say so impatient of warfare — as to produce a sigh 
for its close. This I know is poor and selfish, and can 
only find its apology in the merits and mercies of that 
great High Priest, who is touched with a feeling of our 
infirmities, having been tempted as we are, but, and here 
lies a grand distinction, without sin. 

And yet whilst the feeling of our being poor sinful crea- 
tures, as we confessedly are, gives us a more exalted view 
of the inherent strength, and immaculate purity of our 
adorable Redeemer, it should, I have thought, increase the 
tenderness of our sympathy, and the fervency of our 
prayers one for another, as partakers in the same fall, and 
heirs of the same salvation. Not then so much against 
the sinner, as sin, should our antipathies be, and our spi- 
ritual weapons be directed. Perhaps it is only in the 
school of deep probation, that we could sufficiently learn 
the lesson of being kind one to another, tender-hearted, 
forgiving one another, even as we hope God for Christ's 
sake w r ill forodve us. 

It is indeed one of the most humiliating things ima- 
ginable, to unrol the pages of our experience, which yield 
little but cause for mourning, and lamentation, and woe ; 
yet what an interesting sense of human condition and cir- 
cumstance does the perusal leave behind it, enabling us in 



318 



true self-abasement, and yet without despair, to adopt the 
language, " who is weak, and I am not weak V 

Thy account of dear S. G/s visit and services amongst 
you was very acceptable intelligence to me ; his ministry, 
conversation, and example having, I think, each of the 
times of his being in England, been blessed to me. "When 
he was at Gedney last autumn he dwelt at considerable 
length, in our little meeting, on the Apostle Paul's comfort 
in trouble, as set forth in 2 Cor. 1 ; in which the Almighty 
is described, as the past, present, and future helper of his 
children and servants, — as He (said S. G., with much em- 
phasis) who hath delivered and who we trust will yet 
deliver us. I was comforted and strengthened by the 
manner in which he was enabled to treat a subject, which 
I believe at the time was very interesting to us both. 

Cannot you peep at us by the way towards Lancashire ? 
Gedney, like other grazing districts, often appears rather 
dreary to strangers in winter, but is now about in its 
prime. A scene thou knowest may be lovely though the 
heart of him that views it be faint ; still the note of the 
blackbird, and the fragrance of the woodbine may help 
to keep him from fainting. In the two latter charms of 
nature, I think we just now excel. 

No. 191. To Samuel Pouth. 

1832, 5 mo. 7- — I should be sorry to administer an 
undue degree of discouragement. Although ofttimes per- 
plexed, I am not in despair ; and yet, if I am not greatly 
mistaken, we as a Society do much want arousing from 
our earthly slumbers to a deeper and more practical sense 
of the importance of religion ; and in the nervous language 



319 

of Young, to be taught more earnestly " to weigh the 
moment of eternal things/' I am not without some hope 

; that, not only passing events but future prospects may 
powerfully tend to produce this effect in many minds. 

5 Few things appear more calculated to do this, than the 

I pestilence which walketh in darkness, or the destruction 
that wasteth at no on- day, in connexion with the dark and 

: gloomy aspect of our political horizon. 

It was affecting to me to observe by thy lines, that, in 

| addition to the recent removal of thy valuable aunt Su- 
sannah Clark, several others of your elderly women, friends 

I whom I have long known and greatly esteemed, seem to 
be fast declining. Still let us remember according to the 
expressions of a sweet hymn, that, though a Paul has run 

i his race, or an Apollos dies, Israel is not left without 

! resource &c. On one occasion, I remember, when casting 
a mournful look over a meeting, which, having been strip- 
ped of its leading members, seemed to be left almost desolate, 
I was suddenly checked, almost reproved, for my despon- 
dency by the consideration, that, although other heads 
were removed, the Everlasting Head of the church re- 
maineth, and that in Him is all-sufficiency. 

As a judge of rural affairs and an admirer of the out- 
ward creation, thou canst scarcely fail to observe with 
sensations of gratitude, the bounty of a gracious Providence, 
in sending the present genial weather, and with it the 
prospect of food and gladness, to dependent and unworthy 
man, as well as to the inferior and unconscious tribes of 
animal existence, clothing also the vegetable kingdom in 
its new and annual robes of beauty. 

How numerous and diversified are the reproduced adorn- 
ments of spring, where sin or sorrow, or the lust of wealth 



320 



does not cause them to be passed unheeded ! Perhaps few 
enjoy them with a more lively and innocent delight than 
children : this is strikingly the case with my son John s 
little ones, five in number, from about two to eight years 
old. Being at present favoured with health, they seem 
quite enraptured by the sights and sounds, which on every 
hand surround them, and their grandsire is pleased to see 
them so happy. Next to the praises of the " Great First 
Cause," perhaps there is no subject to which verse is more 
adapted, or on which it is better employed, than in unfold- 
ing the charms and the splendours of his magnificent 
works, as these lie scattered everywhere both in earth, in 
air, and sea, minute and beautiful, or rude and grand. 
Accordingly some of our best poets with several others, 
have contributed their mites in humbler strains to that 
general harmony which seems to bid creation, through all 
its realms, rejoice in the goodness, the greatness, the 
wisdom, and the majesty of its Author. 

No. 192. To Josiah Forster. 

1832, 6 mo. 28.— Were it not for a little of the Chris- 
tian s faith and hope, what should I, — what should any of 
us sometimes do ? As it is, though most unworthy, I 
sometimes endeavour to cling to these ; commiserating, to a 
degree which I cannot fully express, those who unhappily 
want, because they seek not, or reject this support. 
Whither, ah ! whither shall the confirmed unbeliever fly 
in the day when he is called to an account ? This is a query 
that frequently and deeply affects me in contemplating the 
refined infidelity, the false, the bewildering philosophy of 
the present day, which so far as I can understand it, 



321 

denies Christ in the most essential and important part of 
his character, even his divinity. Inseparable from such a 
denial as this, is there not reason to fear, may be the 
awful and positive declaration of the Saviour himself? 
" Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny 
before my Father, which is in heaven." 

29^. — I am fond of children, and sometimes meet with 
a return. Whilst I was writing last evening, my little 
grand- daughters, (of which I have two,) brought one a 
rose and the other a fine strawberry, and placed them on 
either side me. How sweet I felt was this unbought and 
unsolicited love of infant innocence ! Surely, I have thought 
if there yet remains a trace of Paradise in human nature, 
or in this lower world, it is to be found here ! 

No. 193. To Jonathan Backhouse. 

1832, 7 wio. 17- — I hope that thou wilt not be greatly 
discouraged by the low views I am sometimes led to take 
of my own state. Such has been my experience, and such 
the texture of my mind, that I apprehend these views 
may be safest for me. And I am the more induced to 
think so, because I am seldom if ever more peaceful, than 
when with simplicity, not apathy and poverty, yet above 
despair, I can approach the footstool of all that is wise, 
powerful, and good ; a situation perhaps, somewhat com- 
parable to Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus. Whenever 
I can attain this state of mind, I rejoice, though it may be 
with trembling ; for, though the world, even the religious 
world, does not seem in general to comprehend it, I have 
long and decidedly been of the sentiment, that there is a 

p3 



322 



silence which is not the silence of death ; and a stillness 
that is not the stillness of the grave ; yet do not mistake 
me, I am no enemy to words fitly spoken, either in con- 
versation or otherwise. 

No. 194. To Joseph Foster. 

1832, 7 wio. 31. — Here I would panse to observe, how 
entirely at this eleventh hour of my life, I feel dependent 
upon the atoning sacrifice of a Redeemer, or in other words, 
upon the mercy of God in and through Christ J esus for 
the forgiveness of all my sins, both of omission and com- 
mission. For after all we have done, or can do, in the 
way of our duty, we are still but unprofitable servants : 
and shall at last have need of the intercession of that 
Great High Priest, who, touched with a feeling of our 
infirmities can availingly plead for us — to Him then let 
us flee ; — to Him let us cleave. 

Thou wilt, I think, be ready to conclude with me that 
the present are very eventful and unsettled times, not only 
in the political, but in what is called the religious world ; to 
say nothing of the awful pestilence, ^cholera] which seems 
to be entirely providential. In such a season of complicated 
trials, may we, my dear friend, be preserved in tranquillity 
and patience, free from the spirit of contention and com- 
motion, and, as much as in us lies, at peace with all men. 
I seldom am more comfortable than when I feel the 
greatest charity for others, and the least indulgence for 
myself; desiring that whatever I may be denominated on 
earth, I may at last be numbered with the general assem- 
bly and church of the first-born, whose names are written 



323 



in heaven, And this church, I rejoice in being able with 
increasing faith and hope to believe, is composed of every 
nation, kindred, tongue, and people : — yea, of every indi- 
vidual, who feareth God and worketk righteousness. 

Xot that I would be understood as thinking that even 
the outward religious profession any of us may make is a 
matter of indifference. On this important subject, let 
every one seriously consider, and be fully persuaded in his 
own mind. There are also degrees in all things : so it 
may be, even as to some of the external circumstances of 
religion, in reference to which, my own experience (if I 
may be allowed to mention it) has been this, — that after 
trying in my earlier days to find an easier way than that 
in which I had been educated, enduring much disappoint- 
ment and sorrow in not succeeding : and some proof since, 
as I trust I may truly say, of its safety and excellence 
when submitted to; I am at length brought to the un- 
avoidable conclusion, that, where the principles of our 
society are acted upon, and lived up to, they will in- 
variably produce a character the nearest in its approach 
to the precepts and the example of the divine Author 
of the Christian relioion. 

At our age, for I also am growing old, it is a verv 
great privilege to have the use of our limbs, so as to be 
able to do common things for ourselves ; and it is perhaps 
a still higher privilege to retain the power of exercising 
our intellectual faculties, whereby we discern good from 
evil, and are conscious not only of our own joys and griefs, 
but alive also to those of others, so that we can on suitable 
occasions rejoice with those who do rejoice, and weep with 
those who weep. 



324 



No. 195. To J. J. and M. Gurnet. 

1832, 10 mo. 1.— In a mental visit to you this morning, 
I have, though yen 7 unworthy, been permitted a little to 
emerge from the low estate wherein it is my frequent lot 
to dwell, into a sweet feeling of sympathy and affection 
towards you. This feeling I cannot better describe than 
by expressions, which — in a letter to me. applied to 
the spiritual relation, that, previously to his death, had 
subsisted between herself and her late beloved and ho- 
noured father, and which she very appropriately denomi- 
nated, " a unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, that no 
language can fully set forth. " And yet, my dear friends. 
I have had renewedly to believe this morning, in connexion 
with my remembrance of you, that, though words may 
not clearly define it, the thing itself is a substantial reality, 
and under such a persuasion, I can humbly, (I hope.) 
rejoice and invite you, if you are able, to rejoice with 
me. How precious is the love over which time and 
absence have no power ; and which even the intervention 
of oceans and continents cannot sever. Allowable plea- 
sure is not so frequent a visiter to my poor heart, as to be 
too hastily dismissed when she does really deign me a 
call. And though I say this cheerfully, I do not say it 
lightly ; but I trust in a degree of reverent thankfulness 
to the Author of all our mercies, who, in the midst of this 
tumultuous and troubled scene, grants even to the lowest 
of his children and family their seasons of rejoicing. " In 
the world," said our adorable Redeemer, " ye shall have 
tribulation : but be of good cheer ; I have overcome the 
w T orld." 



325 



No. 196. To Josiah Forster, 

1832, 10 mo. 13. — As to the motions of my mind, 
though these may not be very few, nor some of them in 
my own apprehension of the smoothest description, yet 
they are for the most part of too personal a kind to 
incline me to trouble thee with their detail. Rather, as 
more befitting myself and more cheering to thee, let me 
with gratitude to the Author of all our mercies, however 
derived, a truth of which I hope in the midst of all my 
infirmities, I become increasingly sensible; let me de- 
voutly return thanks to my heavenly Father for the 
continuance of his long-suffering mercy, and for the glimpse 
of hope sometimes vouchsafed, that, through the mediation 
and intercession of his beloved Son, my sins may ulti- 
mately be forgiven me, and I may find rest to my very 
unworthy soul. 

No. 197. To Sarah Squire. 

1832, 10 mo. 25. — As it has for a considerable time 
past been a season of peculiar trial to me, and not liking 
to write to thee complainingly, I have not written at all. 
This I assure thee has neither been owing to forget fulness, 
nor the decline of an interest in thy welfare, or that of thy 
family. But there are, as I believe, my dear friend, thou 
very well knowest, times and circumstances, which make 
us as it were dumb with silence; and wherein we are 
willing even to put our mouths in the dust, if so be there 
may be hope. With humiliation and thankfulness, I may 
to thee acknowledge that hope has not forsaken me. No, 



326 



after Having passed through much vicissitude, and many 
tribulations, a hope in the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, 
is the anchor and stay of my soul ; and, I cannot doubt, of 
thine also. 

No. 198. To Jonathan Backhouse. 

1832, 10 mo, 26, — It would be difficult for me to express 
how much I feel interested in thy and thy wife's welfare ; 
not so much for the health and safety of your persons, though 
this is important, as that you may be preserved from every 
kind of spiritual harm : the times on both sides the water 
seem to me unsettled ; and we have an unwearied adversary 
ready to turn every variety of circumstance to our disadvan- 
tage. In heights, he would exalt us above measure ; in 
depths, depress us below hope, and in difficulties, so obscure 
and bewilder our minds, as to involve us in inextricable 
labyrinths. But thanks be to God, he is not invincible. 
By watchfulness and prayer he may be overcome ; and 
though I thus write 9 I have a strong consolatory hope, 
that, over all your conflicts and trials, you will ultimately 
obtain the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Perhaps there are few lessons in the Christian school, 
that we are more unwilling, and therefore longer in prac- 
tically learning, than this, that "to the Lord our God, 
belong mercies and forgiveness, but to us shame and 
confusion of face." Indeed, no testimony, — nothing short of 
experience, could make us believe the full extent of this 
truth, which is so humiliating, that we are ready even to 
distrust the evidence of our own slowly and dearly pur- 
chased knowledge. It seems to be the last stronghold 



327 



which pride, spiritual pride, especially from necessity not 
choice, is compelled to resign. But when once fully re- 
signed, and the surrender duly ratified by a meek and 
lowly walk before the Lord, oh then, what joy and peace 
in believing ! then we find no difficulty in humbling our- 
selves on every occasion that calls for the exercise of hu- 
mility. We can now pathetically, and in sympathy 
exclaim, in the language of poor Job : "I have heard of 
Thee by the hearing of the ear ; but now mine eye seeth 
Thee, wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust and 
ashes. " We sensibly feel that it is through the Lord's 
tender mercies, we have not long ago been consumed ; 
yet great and manifold as may have been our transgres- 
sions, we can even glory in our infirmities, and rejoice in 
a reconciled Father, receiving as our just portion the 
profoundly abasing language of Ezekiel, " And I will es- 
tablish my covenant with thee, and thou shalt know that 
I am the Lord : that thou mayst remember and be con- 
founded, and never open thy mouth any more, because of 
thy shame, when I am pacified towards thee, for all that 
thou hast done, saith the Lord God." (xvi. 62, 63.) 

Thus, my dear friends, I exhibit to you a leaf out of 
the book of experience ; yet appalling as the picture may 
seem, I am not dismayed at it, but rather encouraged by 
finding that the frequent contemplation of it disposes 
me to love the Lord more, and myself less, than perhaps 
any other object or subject were capable of effecting. 

No. 199. To J. J. Gurxey. 

1832, 11 mo. 14. — Attached as I think I sincerely am 
to the principles of our religious Society, as those of pure 



328 



and unsophisticated Christianity, (belie vino- as I do that 
in every Christian denomination there are many estimable 
characters, and I rejoice when I can discover them;) I am 
grieved whenever, and in whatever instance, I behold an 
appearance of dereliction from them ; so that on taking; a 
retrospect of the declension, or shall I say desolation, — that 
living long has given me the sad opportunity of witnessing 
in individual character, in families, and in meetings, — I 
cannot alwavs refrain from mourning. 

In these mental reviews most commonly taken in hours, 
which, though set apart for repose are sleepless, I am some- 
times reminded, (perhaps in a degree of sympathy.) of a o-ood 
man of old who perambulated Jerusalem by night ; — not 
for^ettinof that there is a striking difference between Ne- 
hemiah and myself, whilst he had power to rebuild, 
repair &e. I can only suffer and sigh, beseeching the 
Most High, who was his and ancient Israel's helper, that 
He would be pleased to raise up and qualify amongst us, 
those who might repair our breaches, not so much in the 
walls of our discipline or morality ; as either by the imme- 
diate and powerful visitations of his own Holy Spirit, or by 
a peculiar blessing on the labours of his servants, to rebuild 
that spiritual house, which many of our forefathers inha- 
bited with delight, and wherein we profess to dwell. For 
it seems to me to be almost beyond a probability, that, 
unless the Lord arise for our help, and unless greater obe- 
dience is yielded to his requirements, we shall still further 
decline ; so true is the two-fold position, that, as on one 
hand unless the Lord build the city, they labour in vain 
that bnild it, so on the other, without faith and its corres- 
ponding fruits it is impossible to please God. It is a 
relief to me to have discovered a friend to whom, for the 



329 



first, and perhaps the last time in my life, I can open my 
mind so fully on this delicate yet weighty subject : — 
hoping that, grave as it is, it need not greatly discourage 
us from pursuing each, according to his gift and measure, 
the path of duty respectively assigned us, — an obligation 
that would remain precisely the same, had we no other 
companions ; and this obligation may be described in few 
words, — the simple endeavour to know the will of God, and 
do it ; for exactly thus runs the tenor of my commission, 
and I cannot doubt but thine also. Let us then de- 
sire above all things first a knowledge of the Divine 
will, and next an ability to perform it ; thus shall we 
become the obedient, and finally the happy children of the 
Lord! 

I was quite obliged by thy 'penny enclosure.* There is one 
section of it, which, though it may please a Manchester 
weaver, I am not, with the rural habits and notions of a 
Gedney farmer, quite prepared to go the full length of, I 
mean in the commendation of machinery, which, to the extent 
and in the way in which I suppose it is principally em- 
ployed, must I think, in a majority of cases, be liable to 
strong objection. A factory life, for instance, appears to 
me to be a very unnatural and unhealthy one, and without 
the strict religious oversight of the principal and subordi- 
nate managers, is almost sure to become debased and im- 
moral. But is such a case, as I have supposed, to be found, 
or even to be expected, in the generality of cases ? I fear 
not, especially where the wealth of an individual, or the 
aggrandizement of a family, forms the main spring and 
leading feature of the whole concern ; and where muscles, 

* Address to the Mechanics of Manchester, by J. J. Gurney, 
Price Id. 



330 



sinews, and nerves, from those of the master to his lowest 
dependant — where the wood, stone, brass, and iron of the 
building and its furniture, (nor must we omit the lead, 
whether animal or metallic,) where each of these articles 
makes but part and parcel, and all of them combined, form 
one mighty apparatus for getting money. Such an engine, 
however splendid or powerful, I neither admire nor ap- 
prove. 

Amidst the much that pleases me in this address, there 
is one sentiment which I can most fully and cordially re- 
ceive ; it is that which supposes our humility to bear a con- 
siderable proportion to, if not to be dependent on, the depth 
of our knowledge, whether this knowledge be derived 
from self-examination, philosophical research, religious in- 
quiry, or their united influence : these may not be thy 
exact words, but I think they embrace thy opinion, in 
support of which thou hast very appropriately introduced 
the name of one, who, on account of his eminence both in 
science and lowliness of mind, has been justly and honour- 
ably denominated the child-like sage. As the true Chris- 
tian would not desire a higher title, so perhaps he can 
scarcely propose to himself a brighter example, than that 
of the individual in question, — the pious philosopher, Isaac 
Newton. 



Xo. 200. To Josiah Forster. 

1832, 12 7710. 28. — Having alluded rather indirectly to 
the world and its movements, I would tell thee what a 
privilege I have found it, to be sheltered at Gedney, during 
the electioneering tumults that have lately so much agi- 
tated many cities and towns. Here, though under thatch, 



331 



I have slept securely, and when I awoke, instead of human 
riot, and a mob assailing my dwelling, I have beheld brute 
innocence, gentle sheep, and lively yet harmless birds, 
passing in quiet review before me ; whilst the greenness of 
the grass, ivy, and other perennials, which are rather 
plentiful here, are more refreshing to my sight, and more 
congenial to the general tone of my mind, than the fervid 
heat and all the glowing beauty of departed summer. But 
this thou wilt recollect is the voice of age ; such also may 
seem the further observation, that the animals to which I 
have alluded appear to me, when at rest and happy, to be 
emblematic of the peace, and the evergreens of the perpe- 
tuity of that state into w^hich through the mediatorial plan 
of a gracious Creator, and the merits of an appointed 
Saviour, I sometimes faintly hope, ere very long to enter ; 
I say faintly, because humility becomes us ; and because 
however much any of us may be favoured with outward 
comforts and friendships, we shall whilst passing through 
this state of probation all have our changes, and amongst 
them our low seasons. Indeed, it must be so, if the saying 
be true, " He has no hope who never had a fear " or if we 
attend to the solemn injunction of the apostle, " To work 
out our own salvation with fear and trembling." 

No. 201. To J. J. Gurney. 

1833, 1 mo. 24. — Our philosophical lecturer, whilst deal- 
ing with second causes, not unfrequently in a familiar and 
agreeable way turns the attention of his audience to " the 
great First Cause least understood thus making science the 
handmaid of religion. This appears to me as it should be, 
because at one stroke it exalts the Creator and humbles the 



332 



creature, producing such feelings and sentiments as these, 
Lord what is man ! How wonderful are thy works, in 
wisdom hast thou made them all ! How is it that amidst 
so many powerful agencies in constant operation, both 
within us and around us, we exist in a state of life, health, 
and comfort ! Only by thy nice adjustment and adap- 
tation, as to a particle or an hair's breadth, of all these 
astonishing phenomena. Seen as w T e now behold it, through 
a glass darkly, here seems to be an exhaustless theme of 
adoration and praise : how much more when in the re- 
gions of light and of glory, the veil shall be taken away ! 

No. 202. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1833, 2 mo. 20. — My general health for a man of se- 
venty-three, I suppose I ought to consider quite at an 
average, and so far as I know, to use a law phrase, I am of 
" sound disposing mind and memory What then is the 
matter ? thou mayst be ready to ask. Indeed it is a 
question I have put closely to myself, and one part of the 
answer seems to be, that a time has arrived in which the 
grasshopper is become a burthen, things which at an ear- 
lier day would have seemed comparatively light, now press 
more heavily ; and the mighty movements of the world's 
great Babel, or in plainer language, the divided conflict 
between good and evil, that so strongly marks the era in 
which we live, prevailing everywhere and pervading 
almost everything, is too much for my declining powers, 
and inclines, nearly compels me, to seek in silence and 
retirement, at least a temporary repose. Still I endea- 
vour to keep my eyes and ears open to any intimation of 
duty, should such be vouchsafed me ; being, I hope, sin- 



333 



cerely desirous of realizing a state spoken of in Scripture, 
" I sleep, but my heart waketh." 

I sometimes think these stirring signs of the times may 
somewhat resemble a troubled ocean " rocking itself to 
rest," that they may prove like the harbingers of that 
brighter day, in which, without the notion of a Millennium, 
many hitherto unfulfilled prophecies shall receive a more 
full completion, and amongst them one which I think 
neither the least beautiful nor glorious, (see Isaiah xi. 6 — 9.) 
The meridian of such a day I cannot expect to see ; but 
it is something to behold its dawn, though it be but as the 
first faint streak of morning light in the eastern horizon. 

By a letter from a friend in the north, I have lately 
received very satisfactory information of J. and H. B. and 
of J. B. and his companion, also of D. W. and of the 
objects of his concern, and from another quarter of S. G, 
and W. A. In the proceedings of these missionaries, 
whom we may perhaps with some propriety call our own, 
I feel deeply interested : at the same time wishing well 
to all of every religious name, who, from proper motives 
and qualifications shall engage in services so arduous 
and important ; yet I believe it is better for us as a Society 
to be cautious of much mixing on this weighty subject. 

No. 203. To Josiah Forster. 

1833, 5 mo. 23. — Although I have thought myself 
rather too weakly to accompany my children to the 
Yearly Meeting, yet I do not forget my dear friends who 
are now assembled from distant parts, and I hope in con- 
siderable numbers for its attendance. The contrast of 
numbers, and coincidence in time, between the men s and 



334 



women's first sittings yesterday at Devonshire House and 
the little week-day meeting which about the same hour 
I attended at Gedney, sensibly impressed without greatly 
discouraging me ; and whilst I hope I desired, however 
feebly, my own preservation, I was not unconcerned for 
such of my absent brethren and sisters, on whom the 
weighty business of our annual solemnity must fall. 

Being permitted to enjoy a degree of quietness in staying 
at home, which I hope is not the apathy of a false rest, I 
would not admit gloomy forebodings as to the Yearly 
Meeting ; yet without either ofhciousness or an over soli- 
citude, I may perhaps express to thee a desire that attends 
me, that concerned Friends may watch with jealous 
care two great turning points, or leading principles of 
our Society, if not of Christianity itself ; namely, the uni- 
versality of Divine grace, and as I think was properly de- 
signated in a general epistle a few years since, though it 
gave offence to some, the perceptible influence of this 
grace upon the mind of man. Were I to give up either 
of these points, I should resemble a vessel at sea without 
sail or rudder, the sport of winds and waves, and be con- 
sequently in great danger of making shipwreck of faith. 

There is also another point* on which the watchmen and 
and watch women on our walls may do well, both in 
meetings and out of them, to keep a quiet and steady 
eye. I mean the character of our adorable Redeemer in 
all his offices and attributes. Respecting which, if I may 
be allowed again to introduce myself, it will be to make 
the full and free acknowledgment, that, were it not for an 
assurance of the sufficiency of his atonement for sins 
past ; of his mediation and advocacy for my every day 
faults, and finally of his love and mercy as a compassionate 



335 



High Priest, touched with a feeling of my infirmities ; and 
in this capacity at the great day of account, introducing 
my disembodied soul into the presence of that awful 
Majesty and ineffable Glory which otherwise I dare not 
approach, and could not behold : I say — were it not for 
hopes and expectations like these, I should not only be of 
all men, but of all animal existences, the most miserable. I 
might then envy the passing brute, and like one we read of, 
when congratulated on his worldly felicity, my heart 
would respond by a groan unutterable to his agonizing 
thought, " 0 that I were that dog V 

"Well, here I stand, sometimes trembling stand, as on 
the brink of eternity; and whatever worldly wisdom 
mio'ht think of it, this is the result of my experience. 0 
that it may never cost another what through unbelief and 
disobedience it has cost me to attain it ! But I believe 
it is now as it was formerly declared to be, because of 
unbelief that we do not sooner — and if unbelief is persisted 
in — ever enter into rest. 

If we did but leave our times on all subjects more 
quietly than we sometimes do in the Lord's hand, we 
should feel the better for it ourselves, and probably be less 
displeasing to Him. I am fully convinced of this, but 
often find myself failing in practice. A day however is 
approaching wherein this and all my other infirmities 
shall, I reverently hope, be covered with a mantle, purchased 
for me by the precious blood of the immaculate Lamb. 

No 204. To J. J. Gurnet. 

1833, 9 mo. 25. — How full of valuable interest did 
the account of thy dear mother R. F/s illness, death. 



336 



and burial, and those of thy interviews with George 
Withy and "William Wilberforce, make thy last com- 
munication ! 

There seems to have been a striking coincidence in the 
minds of these pious individuals, on a very important part 
of Christian experience ; that they themselves were nothing, 
but that Christ was everything, their stay, their staff, and 
their only hope of salvation. I believe it not unfrequently 
happens that the most favoured religious characters pre- 
vious to their putting off mortality, are thus unrobed of 
all that formerly distinguished them from their brethren ; 
and w T ith no other covering, than the simple vest of hu- 
mility, which may long have been as sackcloth underneath, 
wait the coming of the Lord to clothe them with the 
wedding garment, and thus render them admissible into 
his marriage-chamber. From this blessed and happy 
mansion that thy poor friend may not be finally excluded, 
has both in sickness and in health, in his best and in his 
worst days, for many and many a year, been one of his 
most fervent, though most secret prayers, scarcely known 
indeed but to Him who can read the heart. 

My late dear friend Rachel Fowlers present of the 
memoir of her precious companion was duly received, and 
having been read both privately and to our little circle, 
is much valued both for the sake of the giver and the 
gift. Without going further into particulars, it may 
afford some notion of my own impressions, to say that I 
do not recollect reading a piece of biography that seemed 
a more exact counterpart of its original ; and of this ori- 
ginal I never knew a man who appeared to me to sustain 
the character of a Christian with greater propriety and 
effect. As a light in the world, his "rays diffusive," I must 



337 

assuredly believe, tended to cheer, encourage, and direc 
many of his fellow-pilgrims in their journey through the 
obscure and difficult paths of this checkered, bewildering, 
and probationary scene. I cannot doubt but that he is 
now receiving the end of his faith, as a star in its ap- 
pointed place, in the everlasting kingdom of his God and 
Saviour. 

[[Alluding to some peculiar trials, at the close of his let- 
ter our beloved friend says,] '4 am endeavouring to seek 
refuge, where in former troubles I have sometimes found 
it, by an acquiescence in the permitted, no less than in 
the commanded, appointments of an overruling Providence, 
who I believe can, if He please, remove me from trouble, 
or trouble from me, without a miracle ; and if it should 
be consistent with his inscrutable wisdom, that I should 
i die upon this cross, 0, may He enable me to say, " Thy 
will be done ! " 

No. 205. To J. J. Gurney, 

1833, 9 mo. 28. — I would just add, that thine and dear 
M/s late visit here was not merely pleasant to us, but to 
me it has left solid satisfaction in its frequent retrospect, like 
one of those circumstances wherewith, under the denomi- 
nation of " helps," a gracious Providence from time to 
time, and as He sees our need of them, relieves our wilder- 
ness journey. These helps are various, both in kind and 
degree ; for our great Alchymist can transmute even the 
least occurrence into gold or a jewel. Thus, since you left 
us, I have received another of these favours, by an interest- 
ing communication from our mutually beloved J. and 
H, ; and again I have derived much comfort from the 



338 



remembrance of this verse in Proverbs, " In the fear of 
the Lord is strong confidence, and his children shall have 
a place of refuge." 

When we are fording the current of adversity, which, 
in its windings, often intersects our path, even such little 
incidents as these sometimes prove like stepping-stones, on 
which we can place our feet awhile, and, if not without fear, 
at least without dismay, calmly survey the surrounding wa- 
ters. But, alas ! such is the temperament, such the un- 
worthiness, and such are the weights we have to carry, that 
it is difficult for some of us, as I believe thou wast to 
thy cost made sensible of in our little meeting, to keep our 
heads above water. May it please Him who prayed that 
Peter s faith might not fail, to intercede for us ! Here is 
my sheet-anchor. 



No. 206. To J. J. Gurney. 

1833, 10 mo. 8. — Thy account of your late Quarterly 
Meeting, as well as thy information respecting divers ab- 
sent friends, who are mutually dear to us, were, so far as 
I am capable of receiving them, matters of comfort and 
encouragement to me. For though it is true that my pre- ! 
sent state of mind is deservedly a low one, and the ele- 
ments seem in commotion around me, yet I still am per- 
mitted to hope that my feet are established upon that rock, 
from which they shall never be entirely removed; and a ! 
single ray of this hope, to those who have known despair, 
is an unspeakable mercy. I was glad of thy reference to 
dear Priscilla's hymns. This little volume has long been a 
treasure to me, almost next to the Bible. I can hardly tell . 



339 



which it suits best, my spiritual state or my failing memory. 
The one thou pointedst out is indeed both beautiful and ex- 
cellent ; and under another class, headed Conflict, what 
depths of mysterious experience are developed. The first 
time I remember to have read Prayer answered by Crosses, 
I was astonished at its unfoldings. How many times I 
have read it since, both in the lines of the book and in 
those of experience, I cannot tell ; but I find them to agree 
so fully, that my surprise now is, that it should be possi- 
ble for such a description to be so realized. 

As I intend no complaint by the last remark, so I 
hope it will administer no discouragement. I believe that, 
with myself, thou art reconciled to the doctrine of Christ 
crucified ; and that, if we would be his followers, we must 
expect to suffer a variety of afflictions, both from within 
and from without. I have sometimes thought when un- 
der trial, and found the thought a strengthening one, that 
if, according to the prophet, He, our adorable Redeemer, 
did no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth, yet 
it pleased the Lord to bruise Him, and put Him to grief, 
with many other expressions in the same chapter of the 
like import ; should we, poor sinful creatures, repine at a 
measure of suffering so far short of his, and also below 
our deserts ; and so needful, perhaps, for maturing our 
Christian character, and preparing us for an admission 
into the kingdom of rest and peace. As my race is not 
yet completed, thou mayest be ready to wonder, all cir- 
cumstances considered, at my boldness. But whatever 
may hereafter befal me, such is the present frame of my 
mind, that I am encouraged, with reverence and gratitude, 
I trust, thus to commune with thee, my endeared friend, 
for whom I desire all spiritual preservation and prosperity. 

Q 2 



340 



No. 207. To Sarah Squire. 

1833, 10 mo. 14. — From not hearing the contrary, I 
suppose thy dear T c may still be living, which is more 
than I once expected. I hope his protracted sufferings 
will have contributed to his more full preparation for an 
admission into the realms of eternal blessedness and peace, 
through the merits and mediation of his Redeemer. May 
the example also of his patience and resignation be such, 
as to diffuse instruction and encouragement through the 
little affectionate circle who surround him ! proving to 
them, by a living illustration, the truth and beauty of the 
following lines, which I quote from memory : 

" From the flame's refining power 

More pure the gold of Ophir flows ; 
From affliction's trying hour 

More bright the Christian's virtue glows. " 

A petition that the Lord would undertake for thee, 
which, on our taking leave, thou saidst thou wast ready to 
utter, is one too familiar to my own experience to be soon 
forgotten. Ah, my dear friend, may we be strengthened 
in all our tribulations, thus to contine to pray ; and may, 
at least, a ray of hope never forsake us, that in the end 
we shall receive, if we faint not ! 

I find myself, at times, both pleased and edified by 
looking into some of the best of those publications, writ- 
ten professedly for children and young persons ;— the sim- 
plicity of the style and language suiting the present state 
of my understanding, whilst the conciseness of the sen- 
tences is equally convenient to my failing memory. On 



341 



taking one of these up very lately, I found the following 
passages so much to suit me, that I extracted them, and 
thinking they may suit thee also, I send thee a copy. 
The subject is, the miraculous draught of fishes : — " Though 
we have toiled unsuccessfully many a night and many a 
month, or even for years, we should never despair of 
God's goodness. Depending on his kindness, we should 
make new efforts, and expect and pray for his blessing on 
our honest industry. It is a very encouraging thought, 
that, even at the moment when his servants have been 
ready to give up all for lost, He has appeared for them in 
a wonderful manner, and sent deliverance and prosperity." 
And again;, " Indeed, there is no case in which we have 
a right to say, The Saviour cannot help us." 

How often, in the course of my chequered experience, I 
have been brought to the borders of despair, and ready to 
give up all for lost, I cannot tell thee ; and how many 
times or in how many ways I have been mercifully helped 
in such seasons, I forbear to tell thee, lest it should savour 
of boasting. And as to what may be the extent or variety 
of my present trials, though they seem neither few nor 
light, yet, as my race is not fully completed, perhaps a 
further exposure of them may be the best confined to my- 
self, and the great Searcher of hearts, our adorable and 
omnipotent God and Saviour. 

208. To JOSIAH FORSTER. 

1834, 1 mo. 3.— It seems probable that my dear son 
John will leave Gedney, and that I must change my resi- 
dence, neither of which is agreeable to me ; but I hope I 



342 



am endeavouring to walk by that faith, and keep that 
patience, which I have been at times concerned to recom- 
mend to others ; yet fully sensible, as I believe it is gene- 
rally allowed, that it is easier to preach than to practise. 
It is a great favour, however, not to find, on retrospect, a 
sting added to the trial. I will not now trouble thee more 
than to request a continuance of thy sympathetic remem- 
brance, and best desires for mine and my family's pre- 
servation by that over-ruling Power, which only can con- 
duct us with safety over the perilous ocean of time, and 
land us in security on the happy shores of eternity. 

By how many dear friends, once well known and be- 
loved by us, has this voyage been recently brought to its 
termination, and their immortal spirits, as we reverently 
trust, through the merits and mediation of Christ Jesus, 
their Redeemer, translated or introduced into that blessed 
inheritance to which I have alluded, where sorrow and 
sighing are unknown ; and instead of them, love, peace, 
and joy, are, perhaps, the only sensation experienced, 
forming the grateful theme of an everlasting hallelujah. 
How mingled, then, are our feelings on such occasions as 
that before us ! we mourn the loss which the church, the 
world, and their relatives sustain by their removal, whilst 
we can scarcely refrain from congratulating them on their 
escape from the cares and the conflicts of a mortal ex- 
istence. This, I think, we may do without impatience, 
though not without desire, in the Lord's good time, to fol- 
low them to glory and happiness. Nor need such a de- 
sire at all interfere with our tenderest regards and obvious 
duties towards those beloved friends and connexions with 
wiiom w r e are yet associated in our earthly pilgrimage. Do 
not the bereavements which give rise to it rather strengthen 



343 



than relax, for every valuable purpose, the bond of our 
union ? 

How often, toiling many a day and many a night, are 
we brought to this point of silent trust, as our last resort 
and only refuge ! May it be mercifully granted us in all 
our difficulties and dangers, until these calamities are 
overpast ! 

No. 209. To J. J. Gurney. 

3 834, 1 mo. 7- — Thou inquirest of my health and spirits. 
The first, I am thankful to say, is good, and I am told I 
look well for my age : of the last, what shall I say ? A 
monument of mercies innumerable ! a brand plucked out 
of the fire ! I ought to be ashamed to complain. If 
I know myself, I am ashamed to murmur; yet if, 
steering clear of both, I might simply describe — truth 
would certainly exclude all boasting. The scenes and 
changes, temporal and spiritual, of which, in the course of 
my chequered pilgrimage, I have been a witness and a 
partaker, with the reflections arising out of them, do at 
times press so heavily upon me, as, in opposition to all my 
striving and better feelings, to make me tremble. 

Here I should say, that my friends are kind and my 
children affectionate ; and that, therefore, mine is an insu- 
lated sorrow. Well, be it so ! in the hour of my conver- 
sion^ in that eventful hour I was commanded to be pa- 
tient in adversity. Moreover, I know that I cannot 
have one pain more of body or mind than I have de- 
served. I am also very desirous that my sins may go 
beforehand to judgment, so that my sufferings may ter- 



344 



minate with the present life; and can I expect all this 
without enduring many tribulations? What, then, re- 
mains, but prayer for resignation and for ability to bear 
them ? 

Thou, my dear friend, wilt, I am sure thou dost, pray 
for me. The mercy of God in Christ Jesus is not only 
a darling theme with me, but I trust I may with reverence 
and humility add, here is my rock and my refuge in the day 
of affliction ; when, — but I need not dilate, believing, as I 
do, that on this point we and thy dear companion have 
one common faith and hope. 

In my morning meditation, the words, " Thy rod and 
thy staff they comfort me," were brought to my mind ; and 
on turning to the precious Psalm which contains them, my 
heart was somewhat tendered; and I believe my eyes 
would, if they could, have wept ; but there is a state in 
which these fountains seem sealed up, and we are denied 
the consoling relief of tears. Now, in this description, I 
hope there is no murmuring ; for I can most truly and sin- 
cerely say, at the end of it, " Good is the Lord in all and 
through all that has befallen or can befal us ; " although, as 
his ways are higher than our ways, and his thoughts higher 
than our thoughts, He may, and often does deal very in- 
scrutably with us. 

Although, during the first era of my life, up to about 
twenty, no human being could, I think, be more fond of 
society and its pleasures ; yet the turnings and windings 
of my path since that day, have not only led me into a 
mental wilderness, but have very much reconciled me to 
all that I find there ; so that being much alone is neither 
discouraging nor disagreeable to me. On the contrary % 
when I hear, and now and then get a view, as I did lately, 



345 



at a Lincoln electioneering, of the mighty stir in the 
great and busy world, I solace myself with such thoughts 
as these : 

0 ! solitude, the man who thee foregoes, 
When lucre hires hirn, or ambition stings, 
Shall never know the source whence all true grandeur* springs. 

Some, perhaps, would call me a fanciful misanthrope 
or recluse. I am persuaded thou wilt rather unite with 
me in the opinion, that, if a man have not thought of it 
before, it is time for him at nearly seventy-five, to fami- 
liarize the recollection that he must die alone, and before 
very long. 

Thy last little book was a very acceptable present to 
me:t the subject was certainly the best that could be 
chosen, and I think it is well supported, Indeed, thou 
hadst this great advantage, that it is a much easier task to 
make such a theme appear lovely and excellent, than so 
to varnish a bad one as to render it even feasible. And 
how much talent and ingenuity have often been wor&e 
than thrown away in the latter cause ! Happy, then, for 
thee, and for all those who have chosen that better part ! 
which, as they cleave to it, shall never be taken from 
them ; and which so clearly demonstrates, on a compari- 
son, that the service of God and of Christ is indeed a light 
and easy yoke, when set against the oppression of the 
devil. 

* I think greatness would do as well, and is not quite so proud 
a word. 

f " On the habitual Exercise of Love to God." 



346 



No. 210. To J. and H. C. Backhouse, (when in Ame- 
rica, travelling on religious service). 

1834, 1 mo. 18. — Beware, my endeared friends, of giv- 
ing too much place to the thought that it is absence 
from your friends and native land, or any combination of 
external causes, which occasions you pain or anxiety. 
These are to be found everywhere in our state of proba- 
tion ; and you may be surprised, when I say, that, even in 
the retirement of Gedney — which, except a few years at 
school, has always been my home — I, perhaps, have suf- 
fered both from bodily illness and mental necessitude 
equally with yourselves. I do not say that my sensibility, 
I mean a capacity for joy and sorrow, may be equal to 
yours ; but according to this capacity, whatever it may 
be, I yield to no man the palm of tribulation. Yes ; I 
have found, at different times in my life, and beginning at 
an early stage of it, affliction to press upon me in such an 
overwhelming manner, as to leave me but just in posses- 
sion of life and intellect ; and as these may, in a certain 
sense, be said to constitute the man ; so, when reduced to 
the extremity alluded to, what advantage has the king on 
his throne over a beggar upon a dunghill ? Here the 
weakest and the strongest mind, the brightest and the 

© o 

dullest genius are brought to a level : and should either 

© © 3 

of them be inclined to boast; if they are honest, I believe 
it must be with Paul and with me, (for once I place my- 
self by his side,) in our infirmities. 

"When I look back over a life, which has not been a 
very short one, I am ready to think that, prior to experi- 



347 



ence, I should have doubted the possibility of so much or 
such a varietv of suffering or trouble, arising in a seclu- 
sion bordering on solitude ; and I have no less cause to be 
astonished at the merciful preservation and deliverances 
hitherto vouchsafed to me ; which I find I have as much 
need, and therefore as much reason, devoutly to pray for 
as ever, seeing that bonds and afflictions still abide me. 
But should it from hence appear, as has been asserted by 
others, that the Christian s life is a continual warfare, and 
should watchfulness be required to the last hour, yet, in 
remembrance of the past, under support of the present, 
and in hope of the future, I can, I trust, with reverence 
and humility say, thanks be to God, I am not in de- 
spair. 

Love and esteem for your excellent fathers memory is 
still cherished by me, and sometimes tender emotion, not 
unmixed with desire, in the Lord's good time, through the 
merits and mediation of an adorable Redeemer, to follow 
my friend to those happy abodes, of which, as we have 
cause humbly to believe, he is now a blissful inhabitant. 
How precious, when we can ever so faintly, if livingly, 
hope, that such will be our final destination ! 

It has indeed been the case, that I have been ready to 
conclude the storm beats from every quarter ; but amidst 
it ail, I take courage in the belief that the fabric of our 
valuable religious Society, small and unpopular as it may 
appear, is nevertheless founded upon a rock ; and I do 
most assuredly believe with you, that its principles, how- 
ever analyzed and proved, will stand the test, and be 
found to contain the finest of the wheat. If we venture, 
however, to speak of the practical operation of these prin- 



348 



ciples, as exemplified in the conduct and conversation, or 
lives of their professors, I fear we must lower our tone ; 
and by one comprehensive word, alas ! include the expres- 
sion of our surprise, our fears, and our lamentation. For 
my own part, I am but just able to cling to the hope, 
that, raised as it was, at the expense of all that is dear to 
man in this life, and by such a display of Omnipotence, it 
will not be suffered by its almighty Founder to become 
extinct, and again to imerge into that chaos of opinion and 
practice, which, both before and since its rise, has so re- 
markably characterized and divided what is sometimes 
called the religious world — more sanguine and less timid 
than I am, and disposed to make the best of every- 
thing, takes a brighter view of our situation ; but as an 
object takes the hue of the medium through which it 
is seen, perhaps he looks through a burnished glass, and 
I through a smoked one, neither of them affording a cor- 
rect vision. 

I cannot but think the present is an extraordinary time, 
both in our Society and out of it, as it regards a great 
part of what passes under the name of civilized and re- 
ligious communities. And whilst we cannot but rejoice 
at the much good that is doing and contemplated, we are 
grieved by the number and enormity of the evils that posi- 
tively exist. And when I have heard of the differences 
and disputes that have arisen in Bible Societies, and Anti- 
slavery Societies, and the spirit in which these controver- 
sies were conducted ; moreover, when I am told of vain 
speculation and useless discussion obtruding themselves 
into scenes and circumstances where we have been accus- 
tomed to look for nothing but harmony and peace, I have, 



349 



perhaps too hastily, been ready to say in ray heart, — Surely 
the spirit of discord must be let loose, not upon a section 
of the earth only, but upon all the inhabitants of it, to 
prove and to try them in the sieve of vanity, emptiness, 
and confusion, perhaps preparatory to something better. 
Well, in this hope let us endeavour to rest, planting our 
feet as firmly as we can amidst these shifting sands ; and 
as we may be enabled, looking up to that omniscient and 
over-ruling Providence, whose tender mercies are over all 
his works ; blessing Him for his grace, and giving Him 
thanks for the outward revelation of his will as contained 
in the Holy Scriptures ; which all seem to me to tend to the 
same point — the calming and settling our poor minds upon 
Himself, as the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, 
which is, and was, and is to come, the Almighty. 

My health is just now, and upon the whole, pretty good, 
having so far the use of my limbs and faculties, as to do 
common things for myself ; and for the rest, I am much 
indebted under a gracious Providence to my dear children 
and friends. The last twelve months have considerably 
lessened the number of my cotemporaries, both amongst 
friends and neighbours, so that my own sometimes feels 
rather like a protracted life, and reminds me of Doctor 
Johnson s line, 

^ The Christian lags superfluous on the stage." 

May I wait with resigned and patient hope until my 
change come, and above all, may I be prepared for it ! a 
desire in which I believe you will unite ; and I can 
believe also, that, if consistent with the will of our hea- 
venly Father, it would be pleasant to us all to meet again 



350 



in mutability ; * though to depart and be with Christ 
would be still better, because then all would be safe. 

No 211. To J. J. Gurney. 

1834, 3 mo. 1 ■ — Thou hast expressed a desire for my 
sympathetic remembrances in the prosecution of thy ar- 
duous engagements in London and its vicinity. These 
thou hast I believe daily, how much oftener I cannot say. 
One thing I know, that, if ever my heart be enabled to 
ascend by living aspirations to the throne of grace, I desire 
to bear thee upon it, and that thy true interests of every 
kind, may be inseparably connected with every breathing 
and every cry for myself and others, who are the most near 
and dear to me. So that were I indeed a father, as thou 
art willing to suppose, perhaps I could do no more. 

On the very important subject of prayer, I sometimes 
think, that, were the Holy Scriptures, which I increasingly 
value, sufficiently read and contemplated, without super- 
seding or disparaging either secret or public supplication, 
by such a practice, we should have no need of other 
Liturgies ; as in those invaluable records may be found, 
not only descriptions of almost every possible case and 
circumstance into which the mind of man can be brought ; 
but confessions, praises, and petitions suited to all the 
varieties of these innumerable changes, which are often 
supplied to us in the needful time, and with wonderful 
adaptation, by that principle, or gift of grace, so appro- 
priately denominated, the good remembrancer. 

* This did not take place. 



351 



Accordingly, may I presume to say, my own mind 
seems just now to dwell with some degree of rest and 
hope on two separate portions of sacred writ, the uni- 
versal prayer of the poor publican, and the more particular 
and private one of David, where he thus implores, " Cast 
me not off in the time of old age ; forsake me not when 
my strength faileth." I have called the first of these 
ejaculations universal, because when some knowledge of God 
and of ourselves is attained, I suppose there is scarcely 
another form of words so congenial to the contrited heart, 
or that when thus humbled so unconsciously and spon- 
taneously escapes from the trembling lips, The last, I 
call private or particular, as more especially belonging to 
that advanced stage of human life at which I am now 
arrived. 

As I often find it easier to copy than to compose, I 
sometimes supply my own deficiency of stock from other 
quarters ; and in this way I propose occupying a part of 
the present sheet by the following extract from Henry 
Martyn, who says : 

" It has been well observed by one,* who took a pro- 
found view of human nature, that there are three very 
different orbits in which great men move and shine, and 
that each share of greatness has its respective admirers. 
There are those who as heroes fill the world with their 
exploits ; they are greeted with the acclamations of the 
multitude ; they are ennobled whilst living, and their 
names descend with lustre to posterity. Others there are 
who, by the brilliancy of their imagination or the vigour of 
their intellect, attain to honour of a purer and higher kind : 
the fame of these is confined to a more select number, all 

* Pascal. 



352 



have not a discriminating sense of their merit. A third 
description there is, distinct from both the former, and 
far more exalted than either, whose excellence consists in 
a renunciation of themselves, and a compassionate love for 
mankind. In this order the Saviour of the world was 
pleased to appear ; and those persons obtain the highest 
rank in it, who by his grace are enabled most closely to 
follow his example/' 

I very much admire the correctness of these views, par- 
ticularly as regards the last, which, speaking religiously, 
I think is quite the climax of human excellence. In the 
class thus defined, I therefore, not only desire that thou, 
my dear friend, mayst ever be found ; but that all thy 
labours by word or writing, may have a uniform tendency 
to produce and to cherish such true disciples of Christ — - 
of which, whatever she may think, the world has much 
need. And whilst it is admitted that such characters 
must not seek great things for themselves, and that they 
need not expect the distinctions of earthly grandeur or 
fame, either on a throne, in the academy, or in the senate ; 
but on the contrary, in following their despised and dis- 
honoured Master, may occasionally have to appear as 
spectacles to the world, and to angels, and to men ; still 
I must maintain the sublime and superior nature, both of 
their present reward, and of their future prospects, which 
are no less than a foretaste of heavenly peace, even in this 
world, and in that which is to come, life everlasting. In 
endeavouring to secure these, is it not worth while to 
make some sacrifices, and even if it must be so, to suffer 
persecution, by being accounted as the filth of the earth, 
and the offscouring of all things ? 

I think thou wilt now perceive, that I have no objection 



353 



to thy preaching " Christ crucified," even should it be 
attended at times with fear and trembling : — exercises 
which the apostle Paul not only recognises, but has in 
one instance placed in a very high connexion, no less than 
the important business of the soul's salvation. We need 
not then be either afraid or ashamed of this honourable 
distinction, which perhaps often cometh from God only. 



No. 212. To J. J. Gurney. 

1834, 7 wo* 23. — Thou hast not been mistaken in sup- 
posing that, even in the retirement of " green Gedney," 
though now like Earlham in its beauty, I may possibly have 
known something of exercise, or even of conflict since we 
parted. This has indeed been the case, which might pro- 
bably be not only a preparative, but tend considerably to 
increase the consolation I received from thy last affec- 
tionate letter, though I am afraid of accepting in full the 
hope thou hast expressed of my state. This to myself 
seems truly described in the twelfth verse of the fortieth 
Psalm : u For innumerable evils have compassed me about ; 
mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am 
not able to look up : they are more than the hairs of 
mine head, therefore my heart faileth me." I hope also 
there are seasons in which I can adopt and appropriate the 
pathetic supplications contained in the preceding and fol- 
lowing verses. " Withhold not thou thy tender mercies 
from me, 0 Lord : let thy lovingkindness and thy truth 
continually preserve me." " Be pleased, 0 Lord, to deliver 
me : 0 Lord, make haste to help me," Even with the 



354 



desired haven in sight, I sometimes am afraid I shall never 
reach it ; and yet the alternative is so awful that I still 
buffet the waves, and, with hope on one hand and fear on 
the other, struggle on. Should these trials ultimately 
prove to have made a part of the good fight of faith, over 
the difficulties of which an adorable Redeemer will in his 
own time and way give me the victory, what a theme for 
everlasting gratitude, thanksgiving, and praise ! But whilst 
they are passing, am I not a poor creature, and is it any 
wonder that thou shouldst be introduced into sympathy 
with such an one ? 

In meditating on the many trials, some of them perhaps 
comparable to baptism, " into the cloud and into the sea," 
that sometimes separately, and at others conjointly attend 
the spiritual traveller, more especially the Gospel minister, 
in the progress of his journey, I have been a little encou- 
raged by the remembrance, that even on the father of the 
faithful, a horror of great darkness is said to have fallen : 
that Jonah the prophet was literally plunged into the bil- 
lows of the great deep and preserved unharmed, whilst they 
passed over him ; and that to a state tossed with tempest, 
and not comforted, those precious promises were made, which 
doubtless down to the present day, have been, and still 
are, fulfilling. So that in our darkest moments, — and do 
they not at times appear very dark ? — we have ground to 
hope, that if we do not cast away our confidence, our 
reward will be sure. May it then be the predominant 
desire of our hearts, that help equal to every exigency may 
be granted, enabling us either to preach the Gospel of our 
Redeemer, or, if more consistent with his blessed will 
respecting us, silently to suffer. The latter, if I mistake 



355 



not my vocation, seems more peculiarly the lot appointed 
for me. 

The Sacred Writings bear abundant testimony to the 
character and offices of Christ, the living ineffable essential 
Word. They negatively disclaim all assumption or in- 
fringement upon either this character or these offices ; 
and according to my apprehension, for this very obvious 
reason, that as they are not such in reality, so they should 
not be confounded with Him, or his attributes, who made 
and upholds the world by the word of his power, and is 
the life of all that lives, both in nature and in grace. There 
also appears the less reason for this confusion, as we know 
there are such a number and variety of suitable appella- 
tions, by which the Sacred Writings may be designated. 
I think there is also a danger, and in this perhaps lies 
the principal weight of the objection, lest, by resting in 
the Scriptures as the only word, we should neglect or avoid 
coming to Christ himself, to have those operations per- 
formed in and upon our hearts, by which the pride of man 
is humbled, and his loftiness laid in the dust. For what 
can be more abasing, than to come to that stone by which 
we shall be broken ? Yet this is easier, than for it to fall 
upon us and grind us to powder ; and whatever may be 
our reluctance or unbelief, submit we must. To the name 
of Jesus every knee must bow, either in mercy or in judg- 
ment. 

Please to present my dear love to thy aunt ; how 
deeply interesting to me was the transient interview with 
her ! the first, since the decease of her husband ; what a 
crowd of mingled sensations, impossible to describe, rushed 
with almost the rapidity of lightning across my mind ! 
sorrow for the loss of a dear, perhaps taken for all in all, 



356 



my dearest friend — joy in his emancipation — sympathy 
with his valuable relict, and with all those who, like her, 
so loved him, as never to expect on earth, to look upon his 
like again. Was not this much to be compressed in a 
space of time comparable to the twinkling of an eye; and 
yet if my heart does not greatly deceive me, I felt it 
all, and am thankful that I could feel it; as I desire 
never to outlive a capacity for such emotions on suitable 
occasions, and in their due degree : for notwithstanding 
modern speculations, they are neither barren nor morbid 
sensibilities ; on the contrary, though unseen of men, I be- 
lieve they are productive of glory, honour, and praise, to 
their Holy Author. 



No. 213. To Peter Bedford. 

1834, 8 mo. 15. — I still decidedly think there is a plain 
difference between the Sacred Writings, highly as I value 
them, and the Spirit that gave them forth, and but for 
which they would never have been ; I am therefore soli- 
citous, perhaps almost to tenacity, that what appears to 
me to be an important and proper distinction should be 
preserved. And further as there are so many appropriate 
appellations, by which the Holy Scriptures may be desig- 
nated without the least disparagement of their excellence 
and superiority to all other writings, it would be a matter 
of deep regret, if, by assuming a title which they nowhere 
claim for themselves, a single mind should be diverted from 
a due seeking after and attention unto that inspeaking 
Word nigh in the heart, which is able to save the soul. 
At our last parting, thou thought I looked rather 



357 



anxious and depressed ; I am not aware that this was more 
the case then, than I expect may pretty often happen. I 
should regret giving an appearance of gloom to religion, 
for none belongs to it ; and still more to make the heart of 
the righteous sad, by bearing about with me a visible 
expression of my own cares. Perhaps it might not be too 
much for me to say, that, as sackcloth has on various 
accounts long been the covering of my spirit, this homely 
garment, though meant to be secret, may sometimes unin- 
tentionally and unknown to myself, be seen through the 
veil of flesh, that transparent veil, of which, in allusion to 
fine threads of mortality at last giving way, it has been 
beautifully observed, one gentle sigh may rend, and intro- 
duce us into an entirely new state of things, a purely 
spiritual world. 



No. 214. To Josiah Forster. 

1834, 9 mo. 13, — How necessary it appears for those 
whose standing in society scarcely admits of their being 
indifferent, or even inactive spectators, to be watchful and 
careful of every step they take, not only for the sake of 
others, but for their own sakes, that so none of these 
shakings may move them from that sure foundation, on 
which the feet of their minds may have once been merci- 
fully placed ! 

And as I believe the false notion of " once in grace, ever 
in grace," makes no part either of thy creed or mine, I 
cannot doubt but that we both feel the necessity for 
continual watchfulness unto prayer, that we may be fa- 
voured with wisdom and strength to stand in every time 



358 



of need and of trial, whatever be its nature. For the 
longer we live, the more sensible we probably each of us 
are, that it is not by past experience, or even by those 
works of righteousness, (and such I think they may be 
called,) w^hich through divine assistance we may in days 
past have obediently performed ; that the work of the i 
soul's salvation is wrought out, and completed : but that 
the repeated w T ashing of regeneration, and the fresh renew- 
ings of the Holy Ghost are absolutely necessary to the 
carrying on and perfecting of this all important concern. 

It may be worthy of observation that the houses de- 
scribed in the parable, as those of wise and foolish builders 
were equally exposed to the storm, though their end was 
so different. But in the full consideration of this im- 
portant passage of Scripture, we must, I apprehend, have 
regard both to the free agency and fallibility of man, by 
supposing that, although his feet may have been set even 
upon a rock that was higher than himself, and his goings 
established so long as he continued thereupon ; by admit- 
ting also that whilst in a state of probation, he has the 
power of changing his position ; — and from his natural 
weakness and corruption, acted upon as they are, he is , 
under a continual liability of being either drawn or seduced 
from it ; so that it is only as divine ability is sought 
and obtained to endure and not yield to the tempest, that 
his building, however fair and specious, can possibly stand 
through all the vicissitudes of time, especially as danger 
is sometimes found to lurk, unperceived by merely human ■ 
vision, in the very calm and sunshine of life. 

There are two objects, which though outwardly very 
dissimilar, yet taken figuratively, seem to have considerable 
bearing upon Christian experience. A vessel that with 



359 



broken mast and torn sails, is still kept steady by ballast ; 
and the eagle, which, after haying had its plumage sorely 
ruffled by weather, gains the top of a promontory, from 
whence, relying upon her stability, she views and brayes 
the storm, waiting in pensive yet majestic solitude the 
return of a serener sky. I sometimes have thought as 
applied to an aged pilgrim (say anyone but myself,) these 
lines are very beautiful and appropriate :— 

" As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; 
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head." 

Attended however as I am by fears and failings, I must 
not soar either with the eagle, or with the saint ; and I am 
therefore now and then not a little encouraged, when 
dear friends can hope for me, that which I scarcely dare 
hope for myself. At the same time it would be ungrateful 
to the Lord, and might seem discouraging to his people, 
were I to withhold the reverent acknowledgment, that there 
are seasons in which I am enabled to adopt this language 
of the Psalmist, " Blessed be God who has not turned 
away my prayer, nor his mercy from me," 



No. 215. To Sarah Squire, 

1834, 9 mo, 20.— I have been familiar with both bodily 
and mental sufferings, especially the latter, from my very 
childhood. I have been lifted up and cast down, emptied 
from vessel to vessel ; my plans and my prospects, even 
the brightest and best of them, so turned and overturned, 
that, were any one to ask for my history, I perhaps might 



360 



send them to that remarkable hymn, entitled " Prayers 
answered by Crosses," in which I seem to behold my own 
face as in a glass ; and yet in all, and through all this, I 
can reverently acknowledge that the Lord has preserved 
and at times signally helped me. Blessed be his holy and 
adorable Name ! 

Ought I not then, and ought not any one who has 
passed through such a course — a course of which w T e may 
the more freely speak, as it is one not very likely to excite 
self-complacency; ought we not, after experiencing such 
awful vicissitudes, to be willing, according to the ability 
afforded, to enter into exercise with one another as compa- 
nions in tribulation ; and when it is given us, to drop a 
word, if it be only a word, of encouragement or consolation 
to a brother or a sister who is weary. Thus happy, as 
instruments in the Divine hand, however weak and un- 
worthy of ourselves, we may at seasons contribute to 
hold up the hands that hang down, and confirm the feeble 
knees. 

I may perhaps have been partly led into the indulgence 
of these reflections, by a reference in thy letter to the 
short portion of Scripture, which I thought it best for me 
to revive at Spalding ; and in yielding to the impression, 
from the manner in which thou sayest it has recurred and 
dwelt with thee, I hope I was not wrong. May we not 
both with humble gratitude believe that the application 
of it to thy benefit was indeed the Lord's doing, and 
even marvellous in our eyes that so small a matter in 
itself should have been made a comfort to thee in perhaps 
a needful time ? This may teach us that it is the blessing 
of the Most High, either upon much or little, that can 
only make our labours prosperous according co Scripture 



361 



"Paul may plant, Apollos water, but" &c. I think 
the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, from which my very 
brief quotation was taken, favours these views, and is, at 
least in several parts of it, deeply interesting to a gospel 
minister. Often, when perplexed by considering how 
limited our knowledge, and how incomprehensible are the 
dealings of Providence with us, in our present state of pro- 
bation, has mv mind been driven as it were for refuge to 
this important verse, " My thoughts are not your thoughts, 
neither are my ways your ways, saith the Lord." Here 
I have generally found rest in the renewed convic- 
tion that I must trust in something better than my own 
understanding. Should we be favoured at last to reach 
the haven of peace, many things which are now difficult 
and incomprehensible to us, will receive a solution. " What 
I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter," 
said the blessed Jesus to his warm-hearted, but somewhat 
prompt and inquisitive disciple. 

The pathetic supplication which thou hast cited,— 
"Spare thy people, O Lord," &c. as the often-adopted 
language of thy heart, is a passage to which mine also 
frequently responds, as from the depths of silence and soli- 
tude ; in my case therefore it may much oftener aspire in 
a groan unutterable, than by other expressions. But it 
may be worthy of observation, that a fast, and solemn 
assembly was first convened, as a preparation or prelude 
to the vocal and more public utterance of this mournful 
and piercing cry ; yet after being thus reduced as into the 
valley of humiliation, what most precious promises and 
assurances were given to the people. And were the mem- 
bers of our religious Society more generally willing to be 
in like manner humbled and broken, who can tell but the 

R 



362 



Lord might graciously condescend to look down upon 
us, and give us to experience brighter days and better 
things ? 

No. 216. To J. J. Gurney. 

1834, 10 mo. 25. — Being rather tottering, I do not see 
what I can do better, than place myself between thee and 
thy dear Mary, as those who I believe will be both able 
and willing to lend support to an old friend, until he re- 
cover breath to pursue, or strength to finish his course, 

whichever may in wisdom or in mercy be appointed him. 
■ 

The plain truth is, that, owing partly perhaps to the 
autumnal weather, I have been rather unwell for the last 
week or ten days, which has kept me mostly within 
doors, and twice from meeting, so that from the manner 
in which the cold and damp air affects my chest, I am 
apprehensive of being obliged to take up my winter quar- 
ters earlier than usual. 

I have also — without any additionally obvious reason, and 
amidst all, with very much to be thankful for, both to Provi- 
dence and my friends — been a good deal tried with mental 
suffering, so that sometimes I have thought I could compre- 
hend, if I did not experience, the import of these significant 
lines : 

" Caii the poor heart always ache ? 

No : — the tortured nerve will languish 
Or the strings of life must break." 

What a favour it is, as w r e probably each of us know, 
when the strained nerve of sensibility relaxes into tender- 
ness, or, in language more familiar with our profession and 
character, when exercises difficult to bear, and beyond our 



363 



own power to remove, are lightened by the hand of that 
Saviour, who promised rest to the weary and heavy-laden 
soul, or when perhaps for a season they may be entirely 
taken away by a gracious God, who, saith the apostle, 
is faithful, and will not suffer us to be tempted above that 
we are able to bear. 

In seeking for the cause of these baptisms — and this, 
however vain it may appear, is a thing we can scarcely 
avoid — a dim light seems to arise from the consideration 
that, as I certainly " have not attained, neither am already 
perfect," it consequently follows that the important work 
of regeneration may be, must be, incomplete, and that 
perhaps the almost nameless feelings alluded to, are a part 
of the sufferings attendant on this progressive and necessary 
work of forming that entirely new creature, or spiritual 
character, of which it is said, u Old things are passed away ; 
behold, all things are become new ; and all things are of 
God." 

From the first surrender of the human will to the 
guidance and government of the Holy Spirit, I apprehend 
the birth immortal takes its date ; and so long as our will 
continues to be resigned and subject to the Divine will, 
though it may be attended with many interruptions, and 
by no means exempt from probation, yet the new creature 
gradually goes forward, through every change, in summer 
and winter, by night and by day ; so that first the little 
child, next the young man, then the strong man, are suc- 
cessively produced ; until finally, should natural life be 
continued, and obedience keep pace with knowledge, the 
measure of the fullness of the stature of Christ is attained. 

It is however a cheering and encouraging thought, 
which I sometimes indulge, at least on behalf of others, es- 

r 2 



364 



pecially for pious young people, or newly converted persons, 
that, at whatever stage of his character or growth, the real 
Christian may be summoned from this world, he is safe and 
in a state of acceptance. In that sense I understand the 
passage, " The child shall die an hundred years old," &c, 
But let not this view, for I think it need not, cause any 
to neglect their daily business of watching unto prayer, 
or induce them to slacken in their spiritual journey ; rather 
let it stimulate them to go on from grace to grace, that so 
their day's work having kept pace with the day, whenever 
called, they may be prepared. 

I have been pleased to hear that dear Mary has re- 
ceived the acknowledgment of Friends as a minister ; and 
were I to add a word of fatherly advice, it might be 
this : that, as a servant of Christ, she endeavour to show 
all good fidelity, adorning the doctrine of God her Saviour 
in all things : and on the other hand, that she never, as I 
fear is sometimes attempted, decorate self with his inesti- 
mable jewels, which are committed to us in trust, for use, 
not for ornament ; this practice I believe seldom answers. 
We had much better in simplicity and sincerity, seek only 
to serve and honour the Lord, leaving it to Him to honour 
us in the way He sees best ; and should we not receive it 
from our fellow mortals, if we are faithful, He will bestow 
upon us that which is far better, even the honour that 
cometh from Himself only. Let her diligently and carefully 
attend to her own precious gift. " Mind your calling, bre- 
thren," is an excellent motto. 

On my way homeward from our late Quarterly Meeting, 
while stopping to bait at Swineshead, I walked into the 
burial-ground, called the church-yard, where amongst 
names and other inscriptions, " spelt by the unlettered 



365 

muse," I at length discovered, something like a diamond, 
which pleased me so much, that, borrowing a pencil, and 
resting on a neighbouring tombstone, I copied it, and intend 
herewith to send it to thee. Independently of its composi- 
tion, which perhaps thou may est think with me is of no very 
common order, it possesses an intrinsic advantage, from being, 
as I am well assured, historically true, which cannot always 
be said of epitaphs and eulogies. Possibly Mary may find 
in plain prose the short and simple annals of this pious poor 
woman amongst her tracts, headed " Amelia Gale, Swines- 
head, Lincolnshire." 

Inscription over the grave of Amelia Gale, late of 
Swineshead, copied from the stone, the 11th of 10th mo. 
1834. 

u Alive, when all her kin were dead 
Alone in this dark world she stood, 
Like the scathed oak that lifts its head, 
Where nourished once a mighty wood. 

Yet ere the sinner passed from earth, 
Who long had drawn unhallowed breath, 

The Gospel gave her second birth, 
To save her from the second death. 

Then lived she to herself no more 

But loving much, since much forgiven, 

Her Saviour's cross she meekly bore, 
And took the Calvary road to heaven. 

And still she lives to Him, though dead, 

For while her memory survives, 
Others, by her example led, 

May show her living in their lives." 

Grave as the subject of these lines is, they may pos- 
sibly brighten some that preceded them ; but however 
this may be, I hope you (for I have had both in view 



366 



from beginning to end) will accept the whole as a token 
of my affectionate remembrance, and unchanging love. 

P. S. I have been informed that you are likely soon to 
resume your weighty religious engagement in and about 
London, in which it is my sincere desire, that the Lord 
may be your ever-present helper, and his beloved Son, 
Christ Jesus, your All in all. How comprehensive is this 
idea ! 

No. 217. To JOSIAH FoRSTER. 

1834, 12 mo. 8. — I think it no small privilege that I 
am yet able to appreciate the friendship of many loved and 
valued Friends, which, if accompanied by the unity of the 
Spirit in the bond of peace, I consider the sweetest enjoy- 
ment on this side the grave. And if thou canst admit 
of my definition of unity, as consisting of love, concord, 
and harmony with each other, and peace as the kindness 
of our heavenly Father to us all, perhaps we shall be 
agreed ; for what can we expect in a state of probation, 
as this life certainly is, beyond these holy and precious 
feelings. And yet perhaps some of us old folks, with in- 
firmities increasing, and dangers attending, may be allowed 
at times to sigh for that further happiness, which an apostle 
has told us, is far better than a continuance here. May 
we be enabled to wait with patience for this blessed con- 
summation of our faith and hope ! 

I was more concerned than surprised, to find by thy 
letter, that several of my beloved friends in thy neigh- 
bourhood, some of them like myself, of a generation fast 
passing away, have been unwell, and that one of thy aged 
aunts is deceased. 



367 



I have thought it not improbable that elderly persons 
may feel somewhat different to younger ones, on the death of 
their cotemporaries ; less acutely on their own account, and 
more of a quiet hope, sometimes almost amounting to con- 
gratulation of the emancipated spirit of their departed friend, 
whom, in the Lord's good time, they would gladly follow. 

There are two words, love and truth, which taken singly, 
seem so to fill the mind with their important signification, 
that one is ready to think, they almost comprehend all 
that can be said on the subjects to which they respectively 
relate ; and yet we find, that, in able hands and under 
right influence, each of them admits of an amplification, to 
which it is not easy, if possible, to set any limits. Perhaps 
the little volume of our dear J. J. Gurney's, the perusal of 
which thou sayest afforded thee satisfaction, may be some 
illustration of the last remark. I, too, though as thou 
knowest, no amplifier myself, have just been reading it, and 
I trust with feelings somewhat similar to thine, as to the 
exceeding greatness of " the love of God in Christ Jesus, 
our Lord ;" respecting which, whilst on one hand we find 
that the contemplation of it strikes us with reverential silence; 
on the other it appears, that, under a well directed sense 
of duty, too much scope can scarcely be given to utterance ; 
and that the theme, when due allowance is made for its 
earthen vehicle, whether tongue or pen, is, like its source, 
inexhaustible. In heaven, this rapturous hosannah, free 
from human imperfections, doubtless resounds continually, 
with every advantage and charm that purified and glori- 
fied spirits only can bestow. See Eev. v. and vii. 9, to 
the end of each chapter. 



368 



No. 218. To J. and H, C. Backhouse. 

1834, 12 mo, 15. — The Lord's servants in different ages 
have been led about and instructed in a way marvellous 
to themselves and others, not unfrequently in direct oppo- 
sition to their own desires and conclusions ; and yet they 
have not been able to find any other way to true peace, 
than by yielding obedience to the pointings of apprehended 
duty. Amidst a cloud of witnesses we may instance the 
apostle Paul, who was much exercised after this manner, 
by being commanded to go here, and forbidden to go there, 
without regard to his previous thoughts or the appearance 
of things, and sometimes against both one and the other. 
He assayed to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit suffered him 
not ; and when on another occasion, he was assured even 
by a prophet, that if he persisted in his design of going up 
to J erusalem, bonds and afflictions awaited him, he never- 
theless went ; and as to his general commission to preach the 
Gospel, he seems to have considered the performance of it 
against his will, as a seal and confirmation of his appointment. 

It may indeed truly be said, as in ancient times, of the 
Creator and Preserver of men, " How great is his goodness, 
and how wonderful are his works towards the children of men ! 
His judgments are unsearchable, and his ways past finding- 
out ; for after a manner incomprehensible by mere human 
intellect He deals with us, both in temporal and spiritual 
things/' I think this is not too much to affirm ; nor need 
it surprise or alarm us when we consider the scriptural de- 
claration, that the ways of the Lord are higher than our 
ways ; and his thoughts than our thoughts. May He be 
graciously pleased, through the mediation of his beloved 
Son, a High Priest touched with a feeling of human infir- 



369 



xnities, to grant us faith and patience equal to our exigencies 
in all the turnings of his holy hand within and without 
us ; and this, if we ask according to his will we are encou- 
raged to expect that He will do ; and in endeavouring to 
petition for it, let us also believe that the Spirit will help 
us sometimes in an unutterable manner. Whatever else you 
may think of these sentiments, you will not, I am per- 
suaded, consider them as mere words of course, or techni- 
calities of my religious education. No : if I did not know 
what it was to suffer, if I had not experienced the necessity 
of resignation, and the impossibility without divine aid of 
living under its constant exercise, I think I dare not ex- 
press myself as I have done ; but however different our 
localities may be, I feel convinced, that, as respects the 
common salvation, there is equal need of being fed with 
the same spiritual food from the same spiritual source in 
every part of the world. 



No. 219. To J. J. Gurnet?. 

1835, 1 mo. 29. — Knowing the aboundings of thy sym- 
pathetic mind towards me, I am ready to fear that I must- 
have made thee " sorry " by more than one letter, par- 
ticularly by the last. It seems due to our friendship, that, 
whenever circumstances will warrant, you both should 
be made "partakers of my joy," especially if, as I trust at 
the present time, this joy is in the Lord, towards whose 
holy habitation, having endeavoured to look up out of 
inexpressible depths, He has, as I reverently believe, con- 
descended once more to listen to my cry, and place my 
feet again on dry ground, where, as on the banks of deli- 
verance, I am enabled to lift up my hands in his name, 
and return Him grateful thanks. 



370 



It being however the safest to say little of ourselves, 
further than may appear likely in some way to promote 
the glory of God, or the benefit one of another, and more- 
over as it requires care that we be not too lavish of bread 
given us for our own support, I shall not enlarge much 
more on this subject than to give you the invitation of 
David, at Psalm xc. verse 6. " 0 come, let us wor- 
ship and bow down : let us kneel before the Lord 
our Maker ; " unless it be just to add, that, although 
I am at present thus favoured with a considerable degree 
of relief from mental suffering, yet former experience con- 
vinces me that I ought to " rejoice with trembling," and 
if I express my feelings at all, that it should be in the 
subdued and chastened voice of deep humiliation : — seeing 
that I am still in the body, attended by wants and infir- 
mities, and surrounded by the combined operation of 
causes, both physical and mental, which, but for the exer- 
cise of unmerited mercy and almighty power, must long 
since have sunk me to rise no more ; and which but for 
a continuance of the same power and mercy, may yet con- 
duct my gray head by the path of sorrow to the grave. 
Well — here I stand, and the above I think is a sober, 
and not an exaggerated expose of my present condition, at 
least of my thoughts. 

On a comparison of intellectual, perhaps it might even 
be said, of religious characters, we perceive a surprising 
variety. Thus, if thou were to place those of thy two 
aged friends, the late Wm. Wilberforce, and him who is now 
addressing thee, side by side, I suppose the contrast would 
appear striking ; but need this offend or alarm us ? Is not 
harmony itself composed of different parts, appropriately 
sustained ? so that if every bird is but true and faithful to ! 
its own note, perhaps it shall not matter much whether it 1 



371 



be that of the plaintive dove, or the more melodious night- 
ingale. 

I must now tell thee how much I have been comforted 
and almost delighted by the second section of thy little 
volume on " Love to God ; ' and having a few friends with 
me last evening, I had it read for our mutual benefit and 
enjoyment, and had the satisfaction of believing that these 
effects were produced : may the impression be permanent. 
Of the few first pages of this acceptable book, I have been 
a little doubtful, as to how far a meetness or preparation 
for the enjoyment of heaven may not be insisted on in a 
way, and to an extent, rather discouraging to the eleventh- 
hour sinner, or the death-bed penitent : two descriptions of 
persons, who I am persuaded are so interesting to each of 
us, that we should be sorry to put them in too much fear 
of the ? blessed and high privilege promised even to a late 
repentance, by the forgiveness of sins; I need not say 
through whose merits, mediation, and advocacy. But the 
poor prodigal, Mary Magdalene, the thief on the cross, 
Rochester, Buckingham, and similar instances of scriptural 
and biographical notoriety, suit my own case so well, and 
have been so much and so long the subjects of my medi- 
tation, that I may possibly have acquired too strong a 
bias in favour of gratuitous mercy, as containing in itself a 
grand preparative, by inspiring sometimes very late and 
very suddenly the important sentiments and feelings of deep 
self-abasement on one hand ; and on the other, the most 
exalted love and gratitude to God — dispositions, in which 
whatever else may be granted, I desire more than I can ex- 
* press, that we, my beloved friends, may, with the innumera- 
ble company of redeemed souls, who reach that haven of 
rest and peace, spend a joyful eternity in thanksgiving and 
praise ! 



372 I 

Xo. 220. To J. J. AND M. Gurnet. 

Chatteris, 1835, 2 ?no. 26. — Being favoured with the 
ability, I am inclined to tell you that I yet live and love 
you ; considering you, as I do, one in the Lord ; and in your 
kindness to me, of course, this my love towards you, is 
one and undivided. Still I should be sorry to request the 
fatigue of a visit from you both ; yet if his engagements 
will allow it, and his dear Master permit it, a visit from 
Joseph would be so much more than a mere satisfaction, 
that, subject as above stated, I think he will not refuse 
me ; for though I believe myself convalescent, it would be 
presumptuous to be sanguine. I shall at present only add. 
that goodness and mercy attend me. Praised be t e Lord ! 



This last extract, written only a few weeks before his final 
close, was dictated by our aged and beloved friend, (he had 
begun the letter, but was too feeble to proceed,) when reco- 
vering from the serious illness which he met with at his 
son s residence. It is truly animating to observe, as the end 
of life drew near, after all the mental conflicts of this chris- 
tian pilgrim, which however had not been unmixed with spi - 
ritual joys, how he was enabled to lay hold of the hope set 
before him in the Gospel, and to look forward to that happi 
period, when he should be for ever united with his Lord and 
Redeemer. His purified spirit is now, we reverently trust 9 
added to the ransomed of the Lord, who come to Zion with 
songs, and everlasting joy upon their heads ; who obtain joy 
and gladness, and sorrow and sighing flee away, " Blessed 
are the dead who die in the Lord ! " 



THE END. 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: April 2006 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16C-56 
(724) 779-21 1 1 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




0 017 496 393 9 4} 



